


The Assignment

by MyrJuhl



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Reality, Clinical situations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trauma, Twincest - Not Related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-17 08:25:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 53,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2303090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrJuhl/pseuds/MyrJuhl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom works for one of Hamburg’s municipal home help centres. Although he originally had plans for a different career in graphics design, he finds that he really enjoys helping people in their homes. When he gets a celebrity for a client, he’s in for a huge challenge. After a traumatic accident, his client can’t talk, can’t hear, and cannot move. Before he knows it, the lines of acting professional quickly become rather blurred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by this interview, where the twins mention they have a bad hearing: http://www.bild.de/BILD/regional/hamburg/leute/2009/11/30/tokio-hotel/band-zwillinge-haben-ohr-probleme.html
> 
> In English: http://translate.google.com/translate?js=n&prev=_t&hl=da&ie=UTF-8&layout=2&eotf=1&sl=de&tl=en&u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.bild.de%2FBILD%2Fregional%2Fhamburg%2Fleute%2F2009%2F11%2F30%2Ftokio-hotel%2Fband-zwillinge-haben-ohr-probleme.html&act=url
> 
> Previously posted on THF and Livejournal

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“Thanks, guys,” Tom said and waved sadly after the removal van, as the crew got inside and drove away.

He was back in his childhood home after a few years of college that didn’t leave him with a job after graduation. Tom had pursued a dream to become a graphic designer. His final result failed nothing, on the contrary, but suddenly there was a shortage of jobs whereas there had been plenty of possibilities when he began studying.

On top of that, his mother died recently, leaving him with out parents and the title-holder of a large owner-occupied flat - all paid for. He just had to make up his mind if he wanted to stay there or sell it. He chose the first option and gave up his old place instead. So far, he had money enough for his expenses. He was used to spend wisely, because he usually had what he needed. Getting more of the same didn’t satisfy him nor could he afford it on a student loan. He hoped he would be able to pay back once he received the money he would inherit from his mother’s private means. From what her lawyer could tell him, it was a quite generous amount but so far, Tom only had the income he used to have which was minimum right now.

His personal life... well, Tom used to have one. However, when his mother got ill, he tried to be there for her when they discovered she was suffering from a terminal illness. His semi-serious girlfriend used the opportunity suggesting they needed a break, because Tom was never around - always with his mother. Tom knew what that meant, so he broke up with her. 

Perhaps it would be better to stay single for a while, and figure out what he wanted in life now that his dream job was out of reach.

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Daily, Tom checked the newspapers scanning the advertised job pages. Usually, there was nothing matching his qualifications, and he was sighing deeply. The prospects of taking a job in a supermarket or restaurant just didn’t appeal to him, but it could be necessary. At least Tom didn’t have to worry about rent, but since he couldn’t get his hands on his heritage yet - due to some technical problems to which he’d lost interest getting the meaning of - he still had to keep his expenses lower than low. According to his mother’s lawyer, he still had to wait a few weeks for all the details to fall into place. That was a lot of time. He’d found a few coins here and there going through her stuff, but she’d been very careful about money, so there was no wad of bills lying around just to be grabbed. Tom had checked every possible place in the flat and he found nothing. His mother used to help him stretch his expenses towards the end of the month, but back then she had been alive.

On the day, when Tom officially moved into his mom’s flat, he noticed a little ad looking for volunteers to visit the district’s lonely people. Tom smiled. He had always loved visiting his grandparents when they were alive and found it easy to talk to older people. He was aware that the ad wasn’t concentrating on old people, but lonely people in general. As long as he didn’t have anything else to do, he supposed he could do this and contacted the municipal right away.

After a short interview, the social worker in charge immediately sent him out to visit an old citizen, and Tom loved it. He was granted two other citizens to visit, too, and he enjoyed having these small conversations that meant so much to the people he spent time with. They played cards, baked cookies, watched television. He even had the opportunity to be creative and make art since one of them was a retired painter. 

Then the same social worker who approved him saw his potential when she was visiting the same person Tom was, and could watch him ‘in action’. Obviously, she liked what she saw, and asked him if he wanted to do this professionally as an unskilled home helper to fill in for someone on sick leave the next six months, maybe even for an indefinite period. It would require additional tasks such as assisting at mealtimes, shopping groceries, personal hygiene, cleaning and vacuuming, and lesser fun jobs as toilet visits. But Tom would get paid for it. He took the job offer right away and, when he got home, there was a letter from his mother’s lawyer that said his money had been available on his bank account since yesterday. When Tom checked his balance via home banking, he almost fainted and sent a silent prayer of gratitude to his mother wherever she was. He would be able to pay off his entire loan in one sweep and still lead a normal modest life if he took care with his expenses. And he always took care.

Getting started on the new job was a big change. Normally, Tom loved quiet mornings, quiet times spent with his friends, as well as playing video games or cruising the city in the weekends binging when he was single. Maybe that was why his girlfriend had been semi serious because he could never picture himself going out clubbing in her company. Usually, he took her to restaurants or for a movie. 

The group of people he was now calling his colleagues were all women – except for a couple of guys who were mostly working there for the money. The onslaught of gossiping caught him unprepared. Learning how to filter the unwanted information from the stuff that was relevant, however, took a surprisingly short amount of time. The quirks and edges of his new co-workers quickly became everyday trivialities. One of his seasoned colleagues, Rosa-Marie, went with him in the following weeks. She taught him the basics and Tom had a great flare for the various tasks as well as solving unexpected challenges. His clients liked him and Tom got nice reviews from his supervisor and boss, Frau Teige.

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“...and then he grabbed my boob!”

Tom snickered discretely at his co-worker’s outrage, where others laughed aloud. Ursula always complained, but unfortunately, she always had valid grounds to complain about. This time it was a senile male client who thought she was his wife, and he groped her every time she was close enough for him to grab her. Of course, it had to be tiresome in the end, but Tom was man enough to find it funny... from a guy’s point of view of course.

Tom liked taking care of other people. Although he had no financial quarrels anymore, the job gave him a valid purpose to get up in the morning and feel accomplished after working hours were done. Tom didn’t particular enjoy these morning meetings when today’s schedule was discussed, last minute changes fitted in, and maybe even trainees planned to stay with the centre as a part of their education to become skilled home helpers themselves. Some of Tom’s colleagues did the training, but since Tom was just filling in, he wasn’t burdened with that responsibility. That was more than okay. He liked to mind his own. He didn’t have heavy clients at the moment, so he didn’t need any help. He assisted a colleague once a day to lift one of her clients when the person in question needed to have their diaper changed. Tom sincerely wished he would never get so sick or worn down that someone else would have to change his diaper, because he couldn’t get up and go to the toilet himself.

On this morning meeting, the usual gossip went on, and in particular about the other sister groups of the centre. Tom considered them all colleagues, but that wasn’t the case with everyone in Tom’s group. The majority there were women of all ages, and the yapping amongst them, had become boring by now. Assignments were handed out in between that Frau Teige managed to cut through the noise. Last night, there had been a death amongst their clients; an elderly lady had peacefully passed away in her sleep. Tom knew of her, and her passing was no surprise. He’d made a deal with Rosa-Marie that when it happened, he would hand over one of his male clients to her. The old guy had Alzheimer’s and didn’t recognize him anyway when he came by. He always called him Werner... To Tom’s knowledge, his client had no family, so he wondered which Werner from the man’s past he reminded him of. But Rosa-Marie didn’t mind, and Tom was a client spare. The municipal always had plenty of applications from people in need of the municipal centres’ assistance, so it would just be a matter of time before Tom got a new client.

“At least he gets some, Ursula,” Tom finally grunted, knowing that comment would not stand alone without a reaction. 

His outraged colleague huffed as expected, “Not from me, Trümper! He’s a pig.”

“Well, how else do these guys get sex, then?” Tom challenged. It was the ever-appearing dilemma. How did old people get sex if they had no means to seek a sex partner themselves?

“Don’t go there, Tom,” Frau Teige warned him. 

Tom rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. He did have an opinion about this matter, but it was not welcome in the centre. The issue was even handled politically in the district. Some politicians had taken their time, looked into the matter, and fabricated guiding rules that the social centre did not assist in situations when a client expressed the need for sexual release. Not assisting literally, of course, but by having contacts to prostitutes or sex therapists, etc. who could enter the picture if a centre was cooperating on the matter. And Tom thought it was in the neighbourhood of neglect, but his centre had no opinion about it officially, and so they were not discussing it. He had a feeling it might be because of the huge number of female staff... None of them seemed sympathetic at all when the subject had been breached. Well, seriously, he couldn't blame them, but it still didn’t make it right.

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“New client, people...” Frau Teige cut through Monday’s morning meeting. Weekends always went by much too fast, Tom mused as he twirled a dirty blond dread between his fingers.

“Listen up. This is important.” Once she had everybody’s attention, Frau Teige continued, “As you’ve probably read on several headlines, a few months back Bill Kaulitz, who resides here in Hamburg, had an accident which hospitalised him for quite a while. He’s back in his own home now, but is still bedridden.”

“Oh!” one of Tom’s younger colleagues exclaimed with keen interest written all over her face. Tom shrugged. He wasn’t interested in Kaulitz’ soft pop music. Tom was into melodic hip-hop. He tried to recall what the pop singer looked like, but only that rather extravagant hairstyle of his that probably required tons of hair spray came to mind. Honestly, the last time he had paid attention to a picture of the guy must have been back when his little band started to get noticed a few years ago. Tom couldn’t even remember the name of the band anymore, but he did remember Bill Kaulitz’ name: The pop star everybody loved to hate.

“I cannot stress this urgently enough, but none of this information is to leave these walls. If that happens, we’ll get sued big time by his family so I need to trust you guys as I trust you with every other client in our care. Herr Kaulitz doesn’t just need our nurse. He wants to be around real people, as I understand his arguments for applying for our assistance. He’ll need one of you.” 

The room was quiet for a change, and Tom couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he played with his lip ring. He was sure the younger staff’s ovaries were flopping in and out like horny umbrellas, so he choked on his own saliva when Frau Teige pointed at him.

“Tom, I want you to take this assignment.” Disappointed groans were heard around in the room, and Tom shrugged. It was probably better that he took the job than Kaulitz having to suffer lovesick women ogling his privates, trying to act professionally. 

“Come with me,” Frau Teige said. Tom got up and went with her. The sound of eager gossip rose as soon as they left the room. Tom shook his head with a small smile. _Grow up,_ he couldn’t help thinking.

Safely inside her office, Tom planted himself in the chair in front of her desk. “So what’s up with this client?” he asked, tugging at his much too large jeans.

“He’s very vulnerable because there are a lot of things he cannot do yet.”

“Is he getting rehabilitated?” Tom asked.

“He’s getting all of that but his upper body is still very weak, and he needs assistance for minor but essential things.”

“What exactly is wrong?” Tom asked, not sure why they had even gotten the assignment.

“His fingers are still not responding to stimulus after the accident, so...”

“What accident?” Tom asked. He hadn’t followed the details to what cut young Kaulitz’ career short.

“A ghost rider. His bus driver tried to avoid the impact and... well... The driver was killed instantly when the tour bus rolled over, and Kaulitz...” Frau Teige’s voice trailed off. “He was in a coma for months and, only when he came back to consciousness, did they realise what was wrong with his body.”

“Wow...” Tom said. He felt a pang of sympathy for the former pop star. Nobody deserved that. “His band mates? Weren’t there band mates?” Tom asked.

“They were in another bus.”

“Lucky them,” Tom commented and picked up Kaulitz’ file. “So... what does he need from us?”

“One of our nurses will measure his medical needs... and a few other personal things. But he’ll need you in the morning. Taking care of breakfast and supervise personal hygiene. He didn’t want the nurse for that task, and he specifically asked for a male helper.”

“He’s really in a bad shape, huh? How old is he now?” Tom asked, his eyes skimming what technical bits from Kaulitz’ hospitalisation that the centre had been allowed to access. It had been a tough time for the singer, and the thin little boyish face looking back at him from a clipped on picture didn’t tell him much. That guy didn’t look like the former pop star Bill Kaulitz.

“He’s doing better. That picture is probably old. He’s nineteen,” Frau Teige said. She looked a little troubled.

“Think we can handle this?” Tom wanted to know.

“Of course. This client is getting better, so we’ll just do our bit to make him more comfortable until he can take care of himself.”

Tom nodded. He got the basics from the file, and what specific wishes there had been listed. The rest he would read over later. Kaulitz would need his assistance everyday for two hours in the morning and one hour in the afternoon. No night team was requested, so Tom figured that Kaulitz did have his own people to help him then. Probably his family.

“And Tom... he can’t hear very well.”

“Excuse me?” Tom asked.

“He doesn’t hear well. It’s not accident related. He just doesn’t hear very well.”

“I’ll need to speak up then,” Tom smiled. Imagine that? A famous singer with a bad hearing.

“And he can’t speak aloud either,” Frau Teige added.

“What?” Tom asked, eyebrows raised.

“His vocal chords are damaged so he whispers.”

“Fuck... so his career is really over - even if he recovers from the paralysis?” Tom asked.

“Yeah. Don’t tell the others this. I don’t think everybody needs to know that.”

Tom nodded in understanding. At least, the guy wasn’t blind. That would have been surreal to lose three senses... well, Tom shuddered with compassion for his client. This was really sad.

“I’m off then.”

“Obviously, he can’t open the door in person, so don’t bother knocking, or use the door bell. The door keys are available in the key box. The key ring is designed like a capital ‘BK’. I insist that you keep them on your person, Tom. The nurse has her own copy.”

“Wow. It feels like Fort Knox already,” Tom joked with a smile and went to fetch the keys.

“Call me if there are complications,” Frau Teige said on his way out.

Turning, Tom nodded. “I doubt there will be any.”

 

After Tom unlocked the key box, locating Kaulitz’ key ring took no time at all. When he dropped the small metallic bundle into his bag, he heard a discreet cough behind him.

“Say, Tom. Could you get Kaulitz’ autograph for my kid maybe?” a colleague asked.

Tom cocked his head. “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises. I haven’t even met the guy yet.”

“Okay. No pressure. Just while you’re there anyway, you know...”

“Later,” Tom nodded, and slipped past the woman. He had some shopping to attend to.

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Considering what a huge iconic star Bill Kaulitz had been and probably still was to those who adored him, Tom was surprised that his client only had two locks on his front door. In a brief flash, Tom felt a strange power. Others would give their right arm to be in the possession of their idol’s house keys. Giving the assignment to him had been a wise choice by Frau Teige.

Opening the door quietly, Tom stepped into a surprisingly old-fashioned hallway. He liked the original interior because that’s how his mum’s flat looked. Nothing had been altered there, either. Varied stucco details on every ceiling, creamy panel work with facets in copper gold leaf. Tom had spent the time restoring those things while he took care of his mother anyway. The paint in this hallway looked slightly pealed. Whatever the state of it, he’d have thought that someone like Bill Kaulitz would have styled his home up to date. 

Tom had done his homework and knew that his client was a vegetarian, so he would prepare a small fruit salad and buttered rolls for breakfast. Hopefully, Kaulitz would let him know what he felt like in general, and Tom would adjust that in his shopping list. 

“Two hours,” Tom mumbled. What would Kaulitz need him for for two hours? Very few clients were given that much time in the morning. The tendency was time being cut down, so Tom assumed that Kaulitz paid for extra time apart from what the centre granted him.

Setting those practical thoughts aside, Tom found the kitchen and, like the hallway, it still held its original bright interior. Tom smiled. The white and brassy cabinets were too adorable to be true. His mother would have loved this kitchen. Small details like these were promising for Kaulitz’ personality. Professionally, Tom had no preferences. He tried to be as neutral as possible and make his judgement after he got to know people better. It made first impressions with the actual person easier to deal with if he treated everybody equally in this line of work. 

Putting the groceries down on the kitchen counter, Tom’s eyes fell on a file on display on the table. The nurse had written her first entry, and Tom quickly read it.

‘Good morning, Tom. Herr Kaulitz has had some phantom pains in his hips and shoulders last night and complained about them. Expect some attitude but roll with it. He took his meds but he’s probably in more pain than he’ll let us in on...’ Tom darted a look at the medicine logbook at what exactly the nurse had given Kaulitz. 

“Whoa...” Tom was surprised by how many milligrams Kaulitz needed of the painkiller in question. So why would she mention an attitude? If the guy was in such pain that he needed strong medication, of course he would have an attitude. Did she think he was a whimp? Tom shook his head and read the rest of the note. Signing his name on the note that he’d read it, Tom then stepped back into the hallway and went to locate the bedroom where he knew he would find his client. 

When he reached the end of the hallway, he found a closed door. It would have to be Kaulitz’ bedroom, and respectfully, Tom knocked on the door twice. When nobody said anything, Tom recalled that Kaulitz couldn’t answer vocally nor hear very well, so he pressed the handle and poked his head inside. Checking the state of Kaulitz, he found someone dosing on the bed. Stepping inside fully, Tom looked around to quickly survey the surroundings. There was a huge closet against one wall and next to that, there was an open door leading into what could be a walk-in closet. Every detail of the room screamed money, but also seemed to keep a certain aspect of personal stuff and Tom gathered that his client spent all his time in here. 

Finally, Tom’s eyes rested on the individual in the bed, but that couldn’t be _him_. Nearing the bed’s occupant, Tom squinted his eyes. What he saw was a delicate, narrow face, surrounded by wavy white streaked black hair. There was something wild about the way the shiny locks spilled all over the pillow. It was a very strange situation for Tom, when he found that he had to convince himself that he was looking at a guy. Still, the person in that bed was far too pretty for Tom to determine if he was in fact staring at woman. A very pretty woman at that.

The tasteful bed wear encasing a crispy duvet looked extremely comfortable and only covered the upper body half ways, yet what was still visible of the top of an expensive pyjama revealed no gender at all. No matter how neutral Tom thought he was, his mind liked what his eyes saw nevertheless, and fed his imagination with intriguing information. Unconsciously, he cocked his head, and his eyes trailed across the clothed chest area above drawn up knees once more to try and detect breasts of any size, before a murmur interrupted his thoughts.

“Are you done... staring at me?” the soft, yet tired whisper reached Tom’s eardrum. Definitely male and, to Tom’s surprise, he wasn’t disappointed. He was supposed to look at a male, so he’d gotten the right person.

“Fuck... I’m sorry,” Tom admitted, immediately. He hadn’t meant to be rude and space out like that, of course. He just hadn’t been aware that he’d been checking out this very good-looking androgynous person.

“I’ll live,” the curt whisper followed and, finally, Tom saw the brunet looking directly at him. Only now did he notice the Adam’s apple and subtle features. This was not a woman, but still the beautiful face confused him. 

“Bill,” his client said.

“Hi!” Tom said with a smile and, pulling himself together, he stuck out his hand in greeting. Too late, he remembered that Kaulitz was not able to lift anything.

“Let’s pretend I shook it, shall we?” Bill said, and lifted a pierced eyebrow in amusement.

“Okay,” Tom said. “Well, I’m Tom - your designated helper. Would you like some breakfast, Bill?” he asked.

“Sorry?” Bill asked and lifted his neck from the pillow.

Raising the level of his voice, Tom repeated his question.

“You got me breakfast?” Bill whispered with a little smile.

Tom nodded. Bill looked very tired, very drugged, and Tom wondered if he had any appetite at all.

“Sure...” Bill then replied after a few seconds either looking like he gathered the energy to answer or wondered if he cared to.

“I also got you some buns and butter... but whatever you’d like, please tell me so I can shop what you need.”

Bill sent him a radiant, but unfocused smile, and Tom smiled back. Then the smile died and Bill closed his eyes, and turned his head half ways towards the wall. “Sounds good. Just half a bun. Salad is... fine...” he whispered, but his voice died, and Tom realised he’d dosed off. Tom’d have to talk to the nurse. Giving strong meds like that before Tom was coming to give him a meal, was probably not a good idea. However, if his client was in pain at that hour, maybe Tom should drop by later giving the meds a chance to kick in.

“Be right back,” he said.

“Hm?” Bill hummed in a question, still with his eyes closed.

“I’ll be right back,” Tom repeated. When Bill didn’t answer, Tom retreated to the kitchen and began cutting fruit.

Shortly after, he came back carrying the bun, a light salad, and a fork. There was a small dresser next to the bed loaded with the likes of magazines, remote controllers, and a mobile. Stacking the items fairly well, Tom managed to make a spot for the bowl and plate containing the bun.

“Smells nice,” Bill whispered.

“Are you in pain?” Tom asked.

“No,” Bill replied. “Not real pain. Just...”

“Phantom pain?” Tom suggested.

“Hm?” Bill asked.

Tom smiled and repeated. “You don’t really hear well. Never considered a hearing aid?” Tom asked with a smile.

“No. Just speak louder,” Bill sighed tiredly. “No. Too loud music.”

“Right. I was told you were born that way.”

“Premature birth,” Bill murmured. “...and too loud music.”

“You want to eat now?” Tom asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah,” Bill turned his head back to face Tom. Once more, Tom was surprised by how good this guy looked. Again, he had no recollection of what Bill looked like before, because the image he might have remembered vaguely had completely disappeared, replaced by this handsome face.

Tom held up the bun close to Bill’s mouth and he took a bite, chewing with his eyes closed. As soon as he’d swallowed, he indicated his head, and Tom gave him another bite.

Bill’s feet suddenly jerked, and he winced slightly, making Tom almost drop the bun he was about to feed his client from the surprise.

“You moved your feet...” he said.

Bill smiled patiently. “I’m blessed that way,” he whispered, ironically. 

Tom smirked. “Sorry. I was under the impression that you were paralysed.”

“My file is not complete,” Bill said with a small groan.

“I gathered that when I read it.”

“Sorry?” Bill asked.

 **“I said, I gathered that when I read it,”** Tom repeated, much louder.

“I’m not deaf,” Bill retorted. “You don't have to shout.”

Tom just nodded with a little smile.

“You have access?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t move my arms. They’re numb. I was stuck between the wall and my bunk in the bus until the paramedics could get me out.”

“Is it too late?”

“I don’t know. I’m indifferent right now.” Bill’s eyes were closing again. 

“Why can’t you walk then?”

“Hurts. Can’t keep my balance or reach for purchase if I lose my balance.”

“You’ll fall?” Tom asked, logically.

“Been falling every time I’ve tried taking longer walks, so when I almost broke my arm, I stopped.”

“What are the painkillers for?” 

“I’m not sure. I just feel pain. Maybe in my arms. Even though... I can’t feel them.”

“Want more?” Tom asked.

“Salad,” Bill whispered.

Tom smiled and got the bowl. Stabbing a few bits with the fork for Bill to eat, he then fed him in silence for a while. As he watched how Bill savoured the food he was given, he congratulated himself to pick the right treat for him on the first day. Bill ate every bit of fruit and asked for milk afterwards.

Apologising for not having bought it, Tom went to get water instead when Bill changed his wish. When he returned Bill was dosing off quietly. Tom dipped his finger in the water and ran a few drops across Bill’s lips.

A smile appeared on his lips and Bill’s eyes opened searching for Tom’s.

“Frisky, aren’t you?” he asked, but didn’t require an answer. Tom just smirked and helped him to sit up and guide the glass gently, as Bill drank. Afterwards, he went to fetch a washing cloth from the bathroom, soaked it under the hot faucet, and wringed the excess water off. Bringing the damp cloth back, he gently washed Bill’s face, neck, and hands.

“Thanks,” Bill murmured.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“Sounds like you’re leaving?” Bill asked.

“Yes, soon. You’re scheduled for two hours in the morning and then I’ll return in the afternoon...” 

Bill lifted a hand and Tom stopped.

“What if I need a bathroom visit at noon?”

“I...” Tom had no answer on the top of his head.

“What?” Bill asked, craning his head closer.

Tom just shook his head a little helpless.

“Why would I need you two hours in the morning and not an hour at noon? I mean, I probably do need you for two hours in the morning, but I need you at noon, too.”

“Well that’s the way your hours have been scheduled based on...”

“I can’t visit the bathroom by myself, Tom!”

“Can’t you use a bedpan or a diaper?” Tom blurted out without thinking.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kaulitz asked hoarsely, straining his voice more than he was able to.

“No... I’m sorry, Bill. I’ll see what we can do,” Tom promised firmly.

“No. You come back at noon, Tom,” Bill whispered, his husky voice breaking from the strenuous outburst. “That’s what you do.”

Tom nodded and licked his lip ring nervously. He would have to make that happen. Bill needed two hours in the morning and of course a visit at noon. He’d come back in the afternoon, too. Somebody hadn’t planned this very well. Tom would have to consult the nurse why a midday visit had been overlooked. Bill wouldn’t be able to get lunch by himself even if Tom prepared it. That would be unless he put it in Bill’s bedroom next to him, but how appetizing would than become on a daily basis? Bill’s backup people would take over from 5pm, but until then, it was the day team’s responsibility. Tom wasn’t proud of this glitch.

“I’ll make it happen, okay?” he said. “But I need to go and tend other clients now. I’ll have someone check on you at noon until I have more...”

“No. I’m comfortable with you, Tom. I want _you_ to come,” Bill said and let his legs drop flat on the mattress with a wince. “I really need the bathroom now, please.”

Tom nodded and came to pull the covers away. His motions halted just for a fraction of the second it took him to comprehend what his eyes saw. Bill had a morning erection tenting his pyjamas pants. Tom was a guy, and that was why he knew there was no way Bill would be able to get rid of it by himself to be able to even take a leak.

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	2. Chapter 2

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"Could you stop staring?" Bill groaned, sounding angry.

Tom frowned. "You can't pee with that one," he said.

"No shit, Sherlock," Bill hissed.

"How do you even...?" Tom had to ask.

"I don't, okay?" Bill interrupted and let Tom help him on his feet. "I don't cope. I suffer and that's..." Bill let the words trail. "And that's it."

Tom sucked his lip ring a few times. He knew what blue balls felt like. Every man did, and Bill suffered that everyday because he couldn't wank. It made Tom's own groin contract in painful empathy. "The centre can't assist you, Bill," he had to state.

"I know. I read the small print..."

"But, you seriously need someone to help you," Tom heard himself say before he realised he said it.

Bill stopped and turned his upper body to look at Tom. "But I didn't ask. Wouldn't know whom to ask. Can't just solicit someone I don't know. I just pray for a wet dream before I go to sleep."

"Can't your management do something?" Tom asked, not able to look at Bill right then. 

"I don't have a management anymore, Tom," Bill whispered, completely embarrassed by now making Tom wish he hadn't asked. Nodding, Tom didn't say anymore. What else could he say? Bill Kaulitz was obviously dropped by his record company after the accident, and had very few means of support left. He helped Bill up and out of bed, assisting him further as the singer slowly walked from his bedroom and toward the bathroom.

"Did the nurse see this?" Tom needed to know.

"Yeah," Bill spoke softly, "but she ignored it. I barely pissed worth a teaspoon."

She hadn't mentioned that in her report at all. Tom pressed the door handle as they reached the bathroom and guided Bill inside to stand in front of the toilet. 

"I'm undressing you now," he informed Bill, and got an affirmative nod back. Pulling down his pants and underwear, Tom glanced around Bill's loose hanging hair and down on his client's privates to estimate the situation. Subconsciously, he observed a few extra things. Bill had been waxed. That was obvious, but tiny lengths of hairs were growing out. Blond hairs. Bill wasn't a natural brunet then.

"How do we do this?" he had to ask. It was not a situation Tom was accustomed to, nor was Bill.

"Tom..." Bill choked out humiliated, and Tom decided that he didn't care about politics. There was no way he was going to force Bill's penis downwards for a leak in the state he was in. This wasn't humane, and Bill was not going to suffer this way as long as he was in Tom's care. Tom was a man; he should be able to handle this. Resolutely, he grabbed his client's cock and gently stroked it. Bill expressed a shocked sound and Tom held firmer around his waist with his left hand as he worked the rigid flesh with his right.

Bill dropped his head on Tom's shoulder and tried to keep the croaked whimpers down. The whole situation felt rather clinical, but Bill seemed uncomfortable about the situation and his basic need for release, and so Tom tried not to seem too efficient. Stroking the teenager in his grasp, Tom felt the tell tale twitches that indicated that Bill was ready to come soon. Bill's breath became laboured, and Tom found that he was breathing coordinated with him. Smoothing up Bill's top, Tom was a little startled by the many tattoos revealed under the fabric; a double star on Bill's hip and a lavish scribble that covered the entire left side of his client. The third elaborately curling tattoo was visible on Bill's left lower arm. 

Tom returned his focus to what he was doing and enhanced the speed. Shortly after, Bill let go of a drawn out moan, as he released his warm cum all over Tom's fingers. Bill sacked in his arms and gently, Tom turned the young man and sat him down on the toilet seat. A minute later, Bill was finally able to take a leak. Tom turned on the faucet and washed cum of his skin. After drying his hand with a towel, he approached Bill.

"I'm taking this off, okay?" Tom asked, tugging at Bill's pyjamas top. Bits of cum had stained the fabric. Bill nodded, looking somewhat bashful. Unbuttoning Bill's top, Tom removed it completely. "You want me to stay for this?" Tom asked, knowing Bill might have more business to attend to.

"Please, Tom," Bill said, avoiding Tom's eyes. "Wanna do this here. Despised doing it in bed in the hospital."

"If it's all right with you?" Tom asked for his consent, but Bill just nodded jerkily. Tom could only imagine what it must feel like peeing in a hospital bottle or doing your big business in a bedpan, but it was unfortunately reality for some of their clients. Bill's stomach contracted and goose bumps formed on his skin.

"You cold?" Tom asked.

"I'm naked, Tom." Bill rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm cold. Hand me a t-shirt?" he added softer, spreading his legs a little to maintain a better balance.

Tom ignored the irritated outburst. Mostly, he wasn't keen on leaving Bill alone, and dragging him along to fetch a t-shirt didn't seem like a bright idea either.

"The chair. Over there," Bill whispered looking away.

Turning, Tom located a stack of various clothing, and he smiled at Bill. That had been smart thinking by whoever had planned ahead. Taking the first shirt from the pile, he unfolded it and pulled it over Bill's head. Whatever hairs were stuck under the neckline, he carefully freed them from their confinement. Then he picked up Bill's right hand and guided it through the armhole. Then the other. Tom couldn't help himself and rubbed Bill's girlishly slender arms a few seconds.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Fine," Bill replied. When the singer didn't continue, Tom stepped in front of him. 

"How would you like me to help you?" Tom asked, not sure how to make this task easier for his embarrassed client.

"I don't know," Bill said and shook his head. "Just... just make sure I don't fall."

"Of course." Tom looked everywhere else but at him, as Bill struggled the next few minutes.

"Gods," Bill croaked after a while. "This must be so..."

"Don't worry about me," Tom said and meant it. Having assisted clients so many times by now, he'd seen and smelled the worst there was to be had concerning diapers and toilet visits. Nothing could shock him by now.

"Back to bed?" Tom asked, when Bill was done and cleaned up. Kneeling in front of Bill, Tom engaged himself in putting the younger man's underwear and pyjamas bottoms back on.

"Yeah. You have to go, right?" Bill asked, softly.

"I do, yeah," Tom answered. When he stood up, he lowered in the knees and put his arms around Bill, pulling him to a standing position. They stood for a few tongue-tied seconds looking at each other before Tom went to stand next to Bill.

"Let's go then," he said, and slowly they left the bathroom and back into the bedroom.

Bill sat down on the bed and moved into place with Tom supporting his shoulder. Sighing deeply, Bill then looked at Tom. Tom lifted his eyebrows in question.

"Anything else before I have to go?"

"Thanks, Tom," Bill said. Then he closed his eyes and turned his head away. "Be here at noon."

"Yeah, right," Tom said. He had to try to fix that.

"See you then," Bill said, clearly dismissing him.

Tom nodded even though his client wasn't paying attention anymore.

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

"Knock-knock," Tom said and stuck his head inside.

Frau Teige looked up. "Hello, Tom. How did it go?" she asked.

"It went... well, it went," Tom said and smiled self-consciously, his tongue working his lip ring. 

"Not good then?" Frau Teige asked worriedly. This was a big client after all.

"Well. He's in a pretty bad shape. He can't feel his arms at all. They're numb. He has no balance tolerance so he needs help to walk."

"Wow."

"In short, he can't use the bathroom, so..."

"Well, he'll need a diaper then," Frau Teige suggested logically, and any other time, it was a logic suggestion. However, you couldn't just force an otherwise rationally functioning individual to wear a diaper. It wasn't like Bill Kaulitz couldn't wait or suffered from incontinence.

"No. He won't. He can do this by himself, he just needs to be taken there," Tom answered. "He needs more time. He needs an hour at noon because his morning hours are so early."

"Tom, we don't have the means for this, and..."

"I'm sure he has the means," Tom suggested without having a legitimate cause. Bill didn't say he could pay for this. Just because he was a former pop star, didn't mean that Tom could spend his money on his behalf. Who knew how much money Bill Kaulitz had now? Tom sure didn't.

Fray Teige narrowed her eyes. "That's not good enough, Tom, and you know it."

"I'm sure that he needs another hour."

"We can't favour..."

"I always favour my clients," Tom interrupted.

"Tom..."

"He can't use his hands. He's practically handicapped. He can't hear well, he can hardly speak."

"I didn't forget Tom. There is just nothing I can do about it."

"He can't do anything. I'm sure he's going out of his mind not being able to do anything but sit in bed like an intelligent vegetable."

"What do you suggest then?"

"That I become more of a visitor again, but with my caring skills," Tom suggested.

"I'm sorry, Tom. It's not possible. You wouldn't get paid for it. Is that what you want? You have to separate your job functions from your emotions sometimes," Frau Teige tried to precise.

Tom frowned. Fuck. His boss was right. It was always dangerous getting emotionally involved, but how could he not? In his mind, Bill Kaulitz really needed more aid than for toilet visits. The poor kid showed signs of a depression and needed human company, too. Not necessarily Tom's company, but it was a start. He was dying to figure out why he felt that Bill was screwed by those who used to surround him now that he wasn't a moneymaker anymore. And what about his family? Would they really show up at five o'clock? Nothing in the file said anything about that.

"I just want something more," he said.

"What's so special about Kaulitz - besides the obvious?" Frau Teige asked curiously, as she leaned back in her swivel chair.

Bill's pretty, angular face came into view in Tom's mind's eye, and he quickly shrugged. "Maybe because we're so close in age. I just want him to get better. Famous or not, he really needs more care."

Pondering, Frau Teige said, "I'll get in contact wit his lawyer and we'll figure something out. You can see him this noon, but thereafter not until I have more information."

"I'll take what I can get," Tom said, smiling. 

Frau Teige looked almost amused when she leaned toward her phone, "I'll look into it, Tom. Now, shoo."

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

Reluctantly, Tom closed the door after him when he left his boss' office. He hadn't been able to keep his promise to Bill, and hoped there was a nearby solution.

"Hey, Tom," a cheerful voice greeted him, and Tom turned slowly, knowing what was coming. "Did you get that autograph?" the woman asked with expectancy in her eyes.

 _He can't hold his own fucking dick with his goddamn fingers, even less a bloody pen for Christ's sake!_ Tom thought incredulously, but he couldn't reveal that of course. "One second," he said instead with a tight smile. Making a big show out of it, he rifled though his backpack, and then knocked on Frau Teige's door. Disappearing inside when she asked him to enter, he got himself a piece of Xerox paper and with a marker, he quickly wrote Bill's name messily on the paper. Leaving the inquisitive eyes of Frau Teige, he left her office once more. Checking the hallway, he noticed that his colleague hadn't moved an inch.

"Here it is," he said, handing over the fake autograph for her daughter. Obviously, Tom's handwriting was nothing like Bill's but then again, his colleague's daughter wouldn't have a clue what it looked like nowadays anyway, since Bill was unable to produce the same pop star scrawl like he used to... Like a few months ago.

Suspiciously, she took the paper from him. Tom kept his poker face, knowing very well that the paper stunk of freshly scribbled ink. 

"His wrist is bandaged," Tom lied.

"Oh..." she said, but looked like she didn't really know what to make of it. Nevertheless, she had to take what Tom had given her.

"Don't tell the others. It took Herr Kaulitz several minutes to write that," Tom added.

"Oh, my daughter will treasure it then," she said with more understanding.

Tom chuckled inwardly. The girl would probably make copies of Tom's scrawl and sell it on E-Bay. The thought alone cheered him up. Then he went to the canteen/meeting room.

"How's it going, Trümper?" one of his male colleagues said.

"Hey, Georg," Tom said and poured himself some coffee from the small tea kitchen in the back. "I'm fine. And yourself? I mean, I haven't seen you since our morning meeting."

"How's the little glamour boy?"

"Glamour boy?" Tom asked, doing his best to look stupid.

"Is he hot looking?"

Tom frowned. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Georg studied Tom closer. Tom rolled his eyes and smirked. "Okay, he's looking somewhat good, I suppose."

"Somewhat? He's a hot little number."

"He's my height, Georg." Tom deliberately got on his tiptoes and towered over Georg by almost twenty centimetres this way. "A little too tall to be your bitch."

"Height has nothing to do with whether you top or bottom, Tom."

"Oh, please," Tom scoffed. "Would you want to bottom for him?"

"He always denied he was gay to the media," Georg said, "Did he say anything to you to indicate he lied?"

"Wow. How did this conversation turn dirty so fast?" Tom said rolling his eyes.

Georg laughed. "Uhum... I don't know. Magic? C'mon, Tom. I'm just curious."

"Everybody wants me to bloody gossip about Kaulitz, but my lips are sealed."

"C'mon, Tom," Georg urged him once more, while he pushed him gently, indicating that he wanted some of the bloody gossip... just between the two of them. Tom didn't buy it.

"You're worse than the girls in here, Georg. The older ones, included."

"I just think he's pretty."

"Your point?"

"Tom," Georg sighed impatiently. "Had he been a girl, you would have delivered the juicy goods already, and you know it."

"Like what? Cup size, shape of her mouth and arse and that kind of thing?"

"You know it," Georg laughed. 

"This is a guy, Georg. Nothing to measure... unless you swing both ways and want _his_ 'cup' size?"

"Noooo... not really, Tom. But Bill Kaulitz can pass for a girl any day and I'll have no problem disregarding the rest."

Tom nodded slowly. Those 'rest' he had personally held in his hands today, and he realised he'd pushed the reality of it to the back of his head to be able to do his job and not embarrass Bill. Man, he didn't need to think about those 'rests' in any other way, and he stepped away from Georg so abruptly, he spilled coffee on the floor.

"'Scuse me," Georg said with huge eyes. "Didn't mean to offend you."

"Cut it out, Georg. I'm trying to act professional around him, so it doesn't help you're panting down _my_ throat." Georg just laughed and went to sit at one of the tables. 

Tom picked some paper tissue and removed the stains. Then he went to sit next to Georg. He zoned out for a while, until it was time to go back and visit one of his other clients before it was time to check up on Bill once more.

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

Letting himself inside Bill's house, Tom dropped the keys back into his backpack. He'd shopped a few groceries on his way and quickly made a sandwich and a glass of milk to bring to the bedroom. Knocking on the door, Tom then stepped into the bedroom and glanced toward Bill.

"Hey."

"Hey, Tom." Bill's face looked mussed, sleepy, and Tom wondered if he slept the day away because he had nothing better to do.

"Are you hungry?" Tom asked and put the sandwich on the night stand.

"How did it go?" Bill asked, ignoring Tom's question.

"I did the best I could."

"Huh? They wouldn't let you?" Bill asked looking crestfallen.

"They don't have the means," Tom began.

"But I need you," Bill insisted. "Is it money?"

"Bill... they cut down. There is no..."

"I don't understand. I applied for this service!"

"I know. I really tried to reason with my boss. But it's paper shufflers who make the politics and quotas, how much staff we can spread over those hours, and they have no..." 

"I'm a person, Tom! Not statistics! They should have told me they couldn't deliver the hours I requested!"

Tom sighed. "I know, Bill. Believe me, I do. But isn't there any other you can turn to? Family? Friends?"

"No. I don't want them. My family smothered me with so much love I had to tell them to fuck off. I don't need them here on a daily basis if I also want to stay sane. And whatever friends I had I've lost along the way. My fault, their fault." Bill shrugged. "Who cares now? Would you want a friend to deal with your shit and wipe your arse? No, you'd want a professional." Bill gasped out of breath after that tirade and began to make jerky crab like motions with his shoulders and Tom realised his client was trying to sit up. Hurriedly, he gave him a hand to pull him to the edge of the bed.

"I guess I wouldn't either, Bill," Tom agreed with him, but that didn't really solve the problem. "So that's why you wanted our service when you could have had your family taking care of you?"

"Yeah," Bill whispered and coughed. Leaning heavily against him, Bill rasped, "I want up and have a walk. I have to take care not to develop bedsores because of my lack of activity."

Another reason why Bill needed more hours, Tom thought worriedly. "Sure."

Bill rolled his shoulders lightly, and Tom looked at him with wonder for a moment realising he'd done it before, too.

"Can you move your shoulders?"

"Yes, I'm doing it, aren't I?" Bill said softly, repeating the motion as he looked up at him. A flicker of a smirk flashed in his eyes, and Tom narrowed his eyes. 

"How come you can't use your arms and hands but you can lift your shoulders?" Tom asked.

"Well, that is the question, isn't it?"

"You're not just playing with me because you're lonely?" Tom asked.

"You're supposed to be on my side! You're the professional one."

"I'm unskilled, Bill. Just filling in for someone else on leave. I don't have the education."

"You're kidding me... But you seem like..."

"I'm doing fine. I can handle the task, but I'm having trouble differentiating between what you need and what I can give you. I'm not even sure you're qualified..." Tom walked away several steps creating considerably space between them.

"No. I really can't walk, Tom! I can't get anywhere far without help. You were here earlier! Are you suddenly blind?" Bill asked and leaned forward in a sudden desperate motion and stood up on his own. He started to walk briskly, and Tom became worried and rushed back to him. In the same moment, Bill's lost his balance, began to fall, and Tom winced in a full bodily shudder as he both heard and saw Bill hit his knees on the ground and then tilt to land on his side. 

Half a second later, Tom reached him. "I'm so fucking sorry, Bill," he said regrettably. What had he been thinking?

Bill bit his lip and nodded. "Not really your fault."

Kneeling next to him, Tom pushed up his client's pant legs to inspect a couple of knees in need of a band-aid. Bill tried in vain to support his hand as he fought to sit back up, but he only managed to give yet a demonstration of how his weak limbs resembled wet noodles. Resolutely, Tom grabbed him under the arms and put him in a sitting position.

"Do you have a first aid kit?"

"In the bathroom," Bill replied, biting his lip.

Tom found it right away; it was accessible on a shelf straight ahead of him. Returning with the bag, Tom attended one knee and put a band-aid on the scrape. The other knee didn't need one.

"Could you get me an elastic band on the dresser for my hair, Tom?" Bill asked. Tom looked into his face, into his brandy brown eyes. Bill blinked a few times, and Tom admired the long eyelashes. He really liked long eyelashes, and Bill's were thick and curled prettily like a girl's. _He's not a girl_... Tom looked away. Fuck, how many times did he have to remind himself of that? Looking away, he slowly got up and went to try to detect the elastic. 

"I don't see one. Would a scarf do?" he asked.

"Whatever," Bill whispered.

Tom came back with the black silk scarf he found. Arranging himself behind Bill, he gathered the silky black hair gently. He found another tattoo on the back of Bill's neck and wondered how many his client actually had.

"I love the feel of hair," Bill commented.

"How much can you do?" Tom asked, "I get the falling thing, maybe, but how much do you feel in comparison to what you can do?"

"I can lift my shoulders. I have no feeling in my fingers and my arms." Bill shrugged. "It bores me to talk about it."

"I just want to understand."

"Hm?"

"I just want to fully understand to be able to better help you."

"You're too sweet," Bill cooed.

Tom snorted. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Bill cackled to his best ability.

"You don't respond to stimuli?"

"Not, yet. I'm supposed to, but I don't." Bill shrugged. 

"And the balance thing?"

"I haven't had enough therapy. My legs are so weak."

"Were you sent home too early?"

"Probably, but I'm a very impatient person..."

"So the therapist... you bitch at her?"

"I am a very moody bitch, Tom. And this happening didn't really help."

Tom smiled. "So why do you need painkillers?"

"I have phantom pains in my..." Bill stopped and turned his face. "You still don't believe this? You asked me before."

 _Just checking..._ "I think you could do better by simply becoming active."

"I need more hours, Tom."

"I can't..."

"I want to hire you."

"What?" Tom blurted.

"I.Want.To.Hire.You," Bill exaggerated his offer.

"Bill, I..." Tom was shocked to say the least. 

"That's the best solution, don't you think? That is... if you want to?"

"What are you asking me?" Tom had to smile. It sounded very desperate, but Bill was desperate to get the help he felt he needed, so he couldn't blame him. 

"Resign and be my personal assistant."

"And when you don't need me anymore?"

"I will."

Hesitating, Tom put some facts on the table. "I'm a month away from getting a permanent position amongst the staff. My boss promised me. I just need to sit out the fill in position."

"I'll pay you €1,500 a week, Tom," Bill said without blinking. "Does that settle your anxiety? If you're that good at what you do, you'll be able to get a job in the caretaking branch any day later on."

"But for how long can you pay me?"

"A very long time, so don't you worry about my money situation." Bill drew up his knees and let his body fall slightly forward. His shoulders slumped and his slender arms fell in-between his legs. Tom decided to take that walk in Bill's garden now. 

Helping him to stand, Tom found a pair of shoes and helped him to put them on. They were ready to leave the house through the French doors of the living room. 

"I'm told there is a lovely little pond further in the back," Bill said, "let's go there."

"How long have you lived here?" Tom asked.

"I just moved in," Bill said.

"What?" Tom laughed out loud.

Bill smiled back. "Had to get away from my family, remember?"

"You're nineteen?" Tom asked.

"Yeah," Bill replied. 

"And you need a personal assistant?"

Bill coughed and turned his head to look away. "Yeah."

"Okay, cool. But what... does a P.A. do?" Tom asked.

"Take care of personal stuff," Bill smirked.

"Bill..." Tom stopped them. "When I'm a caretaker I take care of people. We have certain things we 'do' for people and certain things we 'don't do'. What I did this morning was definitely a 'don't do'."

"And yet you did it anyway. Have you any idea how much that meant?"

"I assume we're not talking in sexual terms here?"

"Yeah," Bill whispered. "I was in pain, and you helped me. Your integrity blew me away. I need that. You're kind, Tom. I just need a sweet person who generally minds, and you fucking care, Tom. That I can actually buy that for money is..."

"Okay." Tom interrupted the distressed skinny boy supported by his arm.

"Huh?"

"I said yes, Bill. When is the wedding date?"

Bill stopped and looked at him very intently. "What?"

"I accept your offer. You can hire me," Tom chuckled.

"Yeah?" Bill's face broke into such a beautiful genuine smile and clumsily he lifted his shoulders and tried to put his arms around Tom's neck. Grinning, Tom knew that this was a very good time to demonstrate the kind and thoughtful soul he truly was and reciprocated carefully by arranging Bill's arms correctly and pulling him close for a full bodily hug.

"Yeah. Can't be that hard, can it? Just a few walks in this lovely garden and you're back to walking normally in a few days," Tom dared to joke. Bill grinned soundlessly and motioned to continue their walk.

"Are you dropping the entire menagerie with the nurse et all?"

"Yes."

"How much in pain are you really?"

"I'm not sure. It varies."

They had reached the pond. Tom saw there were gold fish swimming around in the water.

"Wow..." Bill said. "They're still alive. Either those who used to live here over fed them before they moved out or they're awesome survivors."

"There is a pond in the garden of my building, too. There are fish there as well."

"Cool. Pretty." Bill regarded them interestedly. Then they exchanged a smile and Tom held on better as they began to walk around the pond. "I saw that the nurse donates very strong medicine, Bill. Do you need it?"

"I have these flashes of pain when I wake up. I'm not sure what exactly hurts, but I need them, yeah. Not sure why I would need a nurse to give them to me, but that was part of the 'package' from your centre."

"You mean those phantom pains?"

"That's what they call them. I'm not sure why. I'm not short of a limb."

"Your numbness then?"

"No. Can't be. It's... well, it's not exactly my arms that hurt. Or my legs. I can't feel my arms, so I don't need meds for them..."

"I'll try and have a closer look at the file and then figure out why. Are you on good terms with your doctor?"

Bill leaned closer to Tom who put his arm around his shoulder and squeezed him. Sensing Bill starved for a lot of affection, too, he decided that he had plenty to give to him.

"He's my uncle. I could just call him and ask."

Tom smirked. Bill didn't really pay much attention to his own condition. It was a normal pattern with clients who were maybe a little bit in denial about their own situation. However, in Bill's case, it could be related to his bad hearing that he simply didn't hear everything he was told. He might even choose to prioritize what he did want to hear of the smaller noises of life. 

Tom began to work his way out of the close proximity, but the younger man wasn't keen on that happening yet. "Want to move on?"

Bill nodded after a few moments. "Okay. But this is nice, too," he said very softly.

Alarm bells should have alerted Tom right then and there, but he wasn't really thrown off by prolonged physical contact in general. Besides, Bill was very nice company, and he found himself looking forward to not having to listen to the women in his group gossiping in the mornings anymore. He'd miss Rosa-Marie, but it wasn't that he'd been close with any of them. Georg was already a friend, so he would see him anyway even if they were co-workers or not. One of Bill's arms trailed away and, when Tom had it in focus, he noticed the goose bumps on Bill's arm. Reaching up his hand, Tom feather lightly let his finger tips touch the fine hairs that were erected by the breeze.

"Can you feel it?" he asked, curiously.

Bill smiled. "Maybe."

Tom lifted an eyebrow in question. "Maybe?" he asked.

"Maybe I do and my brain just recalls something because I watched what you did."

Tom snorted. "Yeah. Well, close your eyes then."

Bill smiled with a devious expression in his eyes, but did as he was asked, and Tom blew hot air on his skin. Bill's eyelids fluttered and his shoulder jerked a little.

"Did you feel it?" Tom asked.

Bill's lips parted and he shrugged a little dreamily. "Do it again."

Tom laughed and Bill grinned along. "You're so full of shit, Bill Kaulitz."

"And you can't wait to wipe it off," Bill shot back.

Tom grunted, "Oh, that stung."

"Let's go back inside, Tom."

"Actually, I have to go, Bill. I still have a few guys to look after and we still haven't discussed what exactly I'm going to do around here."

"I still have you later, right?" Bill inclined his head and the pretty long hair spilled over his shoulder, the scarf threatening to become loose. Tom's eyes slid back to meeting Bill's amused ones.

"Yeah. I'll drop by one more time. You need the loo before I go?"

Bill scuffed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I probably should."

Back inside the house, Tom went with Bill as the former singer got undressed and positioned himself on the toilet.

"You done?" Tom asked after a minute or so.

"I wish you could stay," Bill said instead, with such longing. Looking up underneath his casual fringes, Tom just knew he milked his expressive eyes and alluring lashes for all they were worth. "I'll be so lonely."

Normally that kind of cute behaviour would have made Tom laugh. Usually, it would have been his girlfriend trying to get something from him by pouting beautifully. But this was a boy trying to be cute, and Tom had never been in a situation where a guy acted like Bill just did, and he wasn't sure what the wisest approach was.

"Will you?" Bill asked batting his eyelashes deliberately.

Tom grinned. "I care about my other clients, too. It might be the last time I see them."

"Because you resign today?"

"Because I resign today." Tom sighed dramatically. To be honest, he wasn't sure if he made the right choice, but Bill appealed to many of Tom's feelings, and he had to admit he was already looking forward to spending more time with him.

Remembering where they were, Tom helped Bill getting dressed, where after they returned to Bill's bedroom. 

Bill sat back in his bed and turned his head to glance at the television.

"What channel?" Tom asked.

"This is good," Bill replied.

"Can you grab anything at all?" Tom asked, pointing to the sandwich.

"Sure," Bill said with a small nod, and clumsily tried to grab the sandwich. Nevertheless, it seemed to slip between his hands like a slippery fish and landed on the bed covers. Luckily, the sandwich didn't part, but it did leave a trail of crumbs and tiny cut salad pieces.

Frustrated, Bill grunted, "You can go. I'll see you later."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Tom sensed Bill wasn't okay. "Are you..." he began.

"Fuck off, Tom!" Bill growled with an unexpected intensity. His voice broke with the strenuous explicative.

Shocked by the sudden outburst, Tom just nodded and left the house. He would have to learn how to fine-tune the chemistry between them when Bill's boundaries were crossed and when he was truly helpless. Now clearly wasn't it. 

Standing outside the house on the stone steps leading to the front yard, Tom sighed and wiped a hand across his face. This was going to become a challenge, but Bill really needed his help. Tom would just have to take damn care not to smother him like his family apparently did. Tom would demand more of Bill. Force him to take walks and use his body.

Getting on his bike, Tom thoughtfully journeyed to his next client; a lady he was not going to see again. As he was tending her needs, Tom's mind wandered, worrying if Bill was okay. Worrying that no one was taking care of him other than Tom. However, by now, Tom understood that the people who could have stepped into Tom's footsteps had been rejected by Bill. His client was bitter and felt only resentment toward the management who had dropped him when he lost his voice. Pairing that with his smothering family, Tom could easily understand that Bill preferred an outsider who wasn't professionally or emotionally attached to him. Although Tom had taken care of his own mother when she really needed him, he thought several times about the fact that Bill couldn't handle his own family. Tom sighed. Maybe that was why he was the right person after all to take care of Bill.

Tom's second last client was a married couple. All he was supposed to help them with was vacuuming and a bit of dusting off. They always offered him a cup of coffee, and Tom always accepted even if there really wasn't much time for it. Today, though, he was feeling antsy and nervous, and just wanted to get back to Bill and check up on him. However, it would be the last time he was in the elderly couple's home, and so he did drink the offered beverage and chatted amicably with them about everyday stuff as usual.

Finally, the time neared the last assignment of the day: Bill Kaulitz.

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	3. Chapter 3

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When Tom neared Bill’s bedroom, he heard some croaked noises. Knowing how hard it was for Bill to talk with sound, Tom craned his head discretely around the doorframe.

Bill sat up against the wall close to his bed and was apparently in the middle of a phone conversation with the monitor on. Arguing to his best ability, Bill’s voice broke non-stop and, hoarsely, he tried to whisper his anger to the person on the other end of the line.

“You owe me so fucking much. I’m entitled to that money.”

“We discuss this daily, Bill. You’re not contributing anymore.”

“Except the obvious, arsehole! But I can still write lyrics. I always did.”

“Sorry. Bitch on, why don’t you!? You’re not exactly with the label any longer, and I honestly couldn’t give a shit if you wrote lyrics. We have Roland writing for us. It’s not like you’d be able to sing them anyway.”

“The fuck!?” Bill looked incredulous.

“Well, you can’t for fuck’s sake! You can’t even have this fucking conversation, bitch!”

“Is this everybody’s opinion?” Bill snarled.

“It’s my opinion.”

“Huh? What did you say?” Bill forced his question forth.

“Get a fucking hearing aid, Kaulitz! You’re practically deaf and it’s incredible we stuck with your out of tune mooing for as long as we did.”

“I’m-I’m not fucking deaf, and...” Bill coughed.

“I’m the leader of this band now. _I’m_ the lead singer, got it? The others do as I say. Your cunt is no longer required, so bu-bye, Billy boy. Don't fucking call me ever again.”

“But...” the call was cut off, leaving the monotone sounds of ‘doot-doot’ to fill the tense air.

Shuddering, Bill heaved and coughed for a few moments. He stumped his feet against the floor a few times and released a noise close to animalistic. Then it died. Bill’s voice had given up. A pitiful mewl came from him, and he struggled to get up from the floor and threw himself on the bed, face first.

Slowly, Tom entered the room and said, “Knock-knock.”

Bill’s body spasmed in shock and violently, he tried to turn to see who had entered his bedroom.

“It’s just me, Bill. Tom.” Tom came to him and gently pulled the bed wear toward the end of the bed, leaving Bill more space to move. Then he disconnected the annoying noise. Bill just looked at him wildly, and Tom’s heart ached for him. “Who was that arsehole?” he asked, upset on behalf of Bill’s discomfort.

“Kasper fucking Lieberkind,” Bill whispered but then he coughed and shook his head, eyes glistening. “Can’t... he just...” he tried to express, but Tom thought he got it.

“Don’t talk. Your throat must be feeling like fire. Is he a band member?”

Bill shrugged looking torn, but then he decided to nod and bit his lip. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. Could be from anger, could be from pain.

“Want me to warm some milk, Bill?” Tom asked and Bill nodded immediately. Heading for the kitchen right away, Tom quickly opened a carton of milk and poured some into a mug to heat in the microwave oven for thirty seconds. Rifling through a cupboard, he found to his surprise an unopened jar of honey. Adding a teaspoon of the sweet stuff into the warm milk, Tom brought it back to the bedroom. 

Bill still lay where Tom had left him and he seemed calmer now. Tom put the cup on the nightstand, glad to see the sandwich had been eaten in the few hours he’d been away. He propped Bill better up on the bed and sat down, too, facing him. Taking the cup, he began to spoon feed Bill the warm concoction. Wordlessly, Bill took each offer and he closed his eyes in silent enjoyment, trust coming off him from every pore, and Tom couldn’t believe how strangely intimate the entire situation felt to him. The feeling was so familiar, and he realised he’d developed the same affection for Bill Kaulitz that he had had for his mother when he took care of her. He seriously wanted Bill to feel as safe and protected as he possibly could. In that moment, he was 100% sure that he made the right decision when he would resign back at the centre when the day was done. When Bill had finished drinking, Tom put an arm around his shoulder and just sat with him for a while. Bill rested his head against Tom’s shoulder, sighing occasionally, but definitely becoming sleepy. 

Tom kept his eyes on the digital clock on the nightstand. “How about tonight? Who’s coming to check up on you?”

“Dunno,” Bill murmured sleepily. 

“Want me to fix you dinner?” Tom asked.

“I’m not hungry,” Bill said, but Tom doubted that strongly.

“Nobody is coming, right?” he finally asked.

Bill just huffed and sniffled. Tom freed his arm and stood down on the floor.

“Don’t leave me, Tom,” Bill pleaded.

Tom sighed but didn’t answer. Instead, he went to have a proper look at Bill’s place. Looking around, he went to the hallway and then the living room. Bill hadn’t even had his walls decorated yet. Pieces of furniture sort of stood where it had been put down, and Tom realised that Bill hadn’t really moved in yet. Due to his condition, he basically lived in the bedroom, and the rest stood on hold until he got the energy to do something about it. As things were at the moment, the prospect of that happening any time soon was not realistic. There were a couple of other rooms, too, and none of them held any furniture at all. A small plan formed in Tom’s mind. 

Returning to the bedroom, he found Bill buried under the pillow, soft tufts of hair sticking up from underneath. Quietly sitting down on the bed, Tom patted the top of his head to get his client’s attention.

“Mhmmm...” Bill grunted behaving like the kid he still was when they didn’t want to cooperate.

“Would you like to come home with me for a while?” Tom asked.

Bill’s head moved vigorously, and Tom pulled the pillow away to make eye contact. The younger man looked at him for a few moments.

“Are you crazy?” he whispered.

“No. Not the last time I checked,” Tom replied. “I’d be able to take better care of you.”

Bill kept staring at Tom like he was indeed crazy, then he guffawed silently. Tom waited patiently for him to finish his reaction.

“Look, I know you don’t need someone to mother you, but that’s not what I’m proposing, Bill. I just want you to feel good for a while and know that you have my company; that you won’t have to worry about how to get through the basic trials of a long day. I really like taking care of you, and I hope you like me enough, too, since you asked me to become your P.A.”

“Yes,” Bill nodded silently.

“So... we can work something out. I’ll be your beck and call, and you’ll just... be you, I guess,” Tom said with a big smile.

Bill smiled back and, lifting his arm, his fingers grabbed Tom’s. Tom smiled wider. Bill was trying to squeeze his hand, and even though he couldn’t sense much of it, Tom squeezed back. 

“I’m leaving now and when I’ve resigned, I’ll come back and we’ll figure out what to do, okay?”

“Okay,” Bill whispered.

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“Can I enter?” Tom asked Frau Teige softly.

“Sure,” she responded and nodded.

Tom headed for the computer, and opened a Word document.

Hastily, he wrote his resignation and looked up at his boss.

Narrowing her eyes, she seemed to sense what was going on. “Don’t do it, Tom,” she warned him.

“I have to.”

“I don’t think he’s as helpless as he comes across.”

“I don’t care if he is anymore. He needs other things, too. Not just his food cut into tiny squares.”

“You’re one of my best people. I’d be disappointed to lose you, Tom. Who’ll provide me with sane inputs at the morning meetings?”

“I’m sorry, Frau Teige.” Tom printed out his resignation and gently put it on her desk. “Herr Kaulitz is annulling our service. I’ll make sure the medicine and file are returned.”

“We don’t own his medicine or file, so you don’t have to do that.”

“Okay.” Signing the paper with his name and date, Tom nodded. “I’ll clear my locker. Thanks for everything.”

“Is it really worth it?”

“Yeah. I think he is very much.”

“He’s a spoiled pop star, Tom.”

“I understand what you mean and I appreciate it, but honestly, he’s just a kid who is too proud to call his Mama.”

Frau Teige looked startled. “Then he’ll fire you eventually, Tom.”

Tom shrugged. “Maybe I can finally get a job in my profession by then.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll have the extra keys sent to his address.”

“Thanks. See you around.” Tom waved and left the office to go collect his stuff.

Just as he zipped his backpack, Georg came in to return keys. When he saw Tom, he waved. “Hey, Tom. How is that sexy little client of yours?”

“I quit, Georg,” Tom said. 

“Awwww... Was it that bad? Can I have him then?” Georg grinned amusedly.

“No, I mean, I quit the centre.”

“W-what?” Georg’s eyebrows shut upwards. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit. Why?”

“Got an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“Kaulitz?” Georg almost whispered.

Tom shrugged. “Not officially, so please don’t let me read about it in the papers, okay?”

Georg frowned. “You think I’d..?”

Tom smirked. “I’m going to take care of him full hours now. I’m not going to accept the lousy hours that he was granted. So we made an arrangement. Just keep your fucking mouth shut about it. I don’t need the gossip queens spilling the goods either. Think you can do that?”

“Tom, come on. Of course I can handle sensitive information.” Nevertheless, it sure looked like it irked him that he had to promise. To Tom, it meant that he could actually trust Georg would not tell anybody about how bad things were with Bill Kaulitz.

“Do you know who Kasper Lieberkind is?” Tom suddenly asked.

Georg shrugged. “Sure. He’s the lead guitarist in the band Kaulitz fronted. You know, Munich Motel?”

“I’m asking you, Georg.”

“Well, he is. He’s also so full of himself. I’ve seen him when the band appears at music awards. He practically stepped on Kaulitz’ toes to pose for the cameras in November when they won a COMET.”

“Really? I’ve never really paid attention to the band.”

“They’re crap. Kaulitz was the only talent they ever had, and now he’s out. Why did you ask?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“Wanna go out tonight?” Georg asked.

“Nah, I have stuff to attend. Maybe some other day. But call me, Georg.”

Georg smiled. “Yeah. Otherwise you’ll be sitting in front of the telly watching chick movies every night.”

Tom frowned. “Like hell I would,” he laughed. “What gave you that idea?”

Georg snorted and just waved at him going to return his clients’ keys. 

Tom shook his head. Darting one last look into the staff room, he saw it was empty. He could always talk to Rosa-Marie, if he ran into her in one of the supermarkets. It was time to go back to Bill and start planning.

 

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Returning to Bill Kaulitz’ house for the fourth time that day was laden with a certain expectation. Tom hoped Bill hadn’t had a change of heart and decided he didn’t want to move out. If that happened, Tom wouldn’t really know what to do. He couldn’t imagine how he’d be able to take fully care of Bill, but perhaps he shouldn’t anticipate bad news in advance. The knowledge Tom now had, had given him a wider picture of Bill’s life prior to the accident. Tom had had a vague one-dimensional opinion about the band – if any at all - except that he thought they all looked like Japanese comic characters. But Bill looked nothing like that anymore, and Tom wondered why his client had changed his looks so drastically over time. He’d have to Google the band tonight.

“It’s me,” he said, as he knocked on Bill’s door. Bill sat up in bed watching TV. Tom came and positioned himself next to him. Reflexively, he put an arm around his shoulder. Bill sighed and leaned his head against Tom’s. “What do you need to bring?”

“Huuuh...” Bill sighed again, “Don’t care. I live in my pyjamas.”

 _That’s going to change, Bill,_ Tom swore. Bill’s disinterest in himself and his surroundings was part of his apathy, his depression. Tom would make sure to start involving him and, with that, to launch his plan to exercise Bill and make his legs and arms more strong. He wasn’t sure if there was neglect involved on the hospital’s side, but then Tom had no idea where Bill had been tended to in connection with the accident and the time after. He wasn’t impressed with whoever had been in charge of Bill’s rehabilitation, and Tom was positive he would be able to do better. 

“Where are your suitcases?” Tom asked.

“Closet,” Bill murmured and rubbed his head against Tom’s dreads.

“Tired?” Tom asked and felt Bill nod. “Well, we’ll get you back to my place as soon as possible. “Sit up straighter; because I’m going to gather a few things for you.” Gently pushing Bill back to sitting by himself, Tom left the bedroom and went to the kitchen. He removed everything from the fridge and went outside to throw it in the garbage bin. Back inside the house, he critically checked the living room one more time but, as far as Tom could tell, there was nothing that would have a personal value to Bill. Stepping back into the bedroom, Tom went and opened the walk in closet. All he could find was a collection of suitcases. There was nothing on the hangers and shelves.

Pulling one out that weighed a good deal, he unzipped it only to find that the suitcase was already packed. Looking at Bill, he asked, “What?”

“Never unpacked when I moved in, Tom. I’m ready to go,” Bill said dully.

Tom toyed with his lip ring as his eyes darted around the room. “Do you need anything from the bedroom?”

“Do you have a TV?” Bill asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then no.”

In total, there were six suitcases and Tom pulled all of them out of the closet. When he pointed to the other closet, Bill shook his head, indicating there was nothing in there he needed.

Frowning, Tom asked, “These are your possessions?”

“Clothes, jewellery, make up. Yeah. I have more clothes, but these are the ones I’m attached to.”

“What about your personal stuff? Papers, photo albums...”

“My mum stored it. I have a ton of junk,” Bill whispered.

Tom smiled. “You want it back?”

Bill’s eyes shifted a few times before he asked, “Could I?”

Tom thought about his mother’s large flat and how he’d had to throw most of _her_ junk out, because she was an obsessive collector of stuff Tom had no interest in keeping, so he had quite a lot of space. “My flat is big, Bill. And you’re welcome to fill it with your junk.” Bill’s eyes filmed over with wetness.

Clearing his non-existent voice, he whispered, “Can we leave?”

Tom smiled. “I’ll just bring these down and then fetch you.”

“Call the taxi first,” Bill said. “It’s late. They’ll arrive late.”

“Might be a good idea, yeah,” Tom agreed and called for a taxi, explaining how much luggage they needed to bring with them. Quickly, Tom brought all the suitcases outside. Then he went back into the house to dress Bill in shoes and a pea jacket he found in the hall. Bill was still wearing the pants he had on from earlier in the day. 

“My bag. I need my bag,” Bill suddenly remembered.

“Meds, too,” Tom recalled. He ran to the kitchen and grabbed the file and meds lying there. Then he came back to the bedroom and got a bag from Bill’s dresser. “This one?”

“Probably.”

Tom opened the bag and showed Bill the contents.

“Yeah. That one. Oh, and my phone, Tom.”

Tom found it on the floor from Bill’s previous phone call. “I was wondering if you want your own duvet and pillow?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything else? I can always come over and get something if you forgot it.”

“Toothbrush. Maybe. Oh, and my sewing machine.”

Tom’s eyes shifted as he allowed himself to wonder why Bill Kaulitz the pop star would own a sewing machine. “You seriously need that one?”

“Please, Tom?” Bill begged.

Tom smiled and went to the bathroom. He picked whatever he thought Bill might miss and came back and put it in his own backpack. Helping Bill outside, he then went back to pick up the rest. When he joined the former singer once more, the taxi had arrived. Loading the car with Bill’s stuff - including Tom’s bike - the two young men got into the backseat. Bill looked exhausted and Tom smiled a little and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Bill smiled back. 

“Where to?” the driver asked, and Tom gave him his address whilst buckling up Bill.

“I can’t wait,” Bill said, quietly.

“Are you in pain?” Tom suddenly asked, but Bill shrugged. 

“No. Not yet.”

“Okay,” Tom replied and kept Bill’s hand in his. “Who’ll respond to the annulled agreement with the centre?”

“Nobody. I didn’t tell anybody.”

Tom watched the young man with incredulity. “You’ve been doing this solo?”

“Give me a break. I’ve done everything solo since I was thirteen. But I admit I didn’t do a good job on this. It’s difficult to be certain that I get all the details in a conversation. People easily forget that...” Bill stopped talking.

“That you’re slightly deaf?” Tom finished for him.

“I’m not...” Bill immediately protested.

“Bill,” Tom looked at him pointedly.

“Maybe just a little,” Bill finally said, looking away annoyed, but a smile was developing, too.

“How were you even able to perform?” Tom asked. 

“Huh?” Bill asked.

“How were you even able to perform?” Tom asked louder.

“Tom, I’m not deaf,” Bill complained.

“Well the noise must have caused some damage. The decibel level at concerts must damage your already weak hearing.” Bill shrugged. “Come on, Bill,” Tom goaded and nudged him playfully.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bill whispered. “I already told you earlier. At the time, it was worth it. I don’t care.”

“All right,” Tom said. He hadn’t closed that door yet. In time, he would try to do something about it for Bill.

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Tom didn’t live that far from Bill’s house and the taxi arrived in front of the building only ten minutes later. When Tom got out of the car, he heard someone call and, as he straightened up, he saw it was Georg. “Shit, what the fuck are you doing here?” Tom asked. This was not cool. Georg’s eyes flashed all over the scene taking place before his eyes.

“What are _you_ doing, Trümper?” Georg asked.

“Unless you’re giving me a hand, butt out of it, Listing.” Georg stood undecidedly, but then he set into motion and began helping Tom unloading suitcases and bed wear from the taxi. Parking his bike in the stand provided in front of the building, Tom lastly helped Bill out of the car. He took care of the fare and then they all stood on the street.

Georg’s eyes were practically popping out of his head when he realised who was standing clutched next to Tom. “Why is he here? Does Frau Teige know this?”

“What’s to know? I’m not exactly adopting a nineteen year old adult, Georg. He’s no longer with the centre, remember? So grow up. Help me get this inside. Then we’ll drag it up.”

“Tom...” Georg stalled not able to take his eyes off the former pop star.

“Are you helping or not?” Bill asked him.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll give a hand,” Georg said, and began helping Tom getting the luggage into the building. “Isn’t he gonna help?” Georg asked.

“No. He isn’t,” Tom replied curtly and arranged some of the luggage in the antique elevator. “Take this to the third floor and unload it,” he instructed Georg. There was no way he’d let Bill stay alone with his friend. As Georg did what he was told, Tom took the last bit of luggage and lined them up for the next ride. Once he heard Georg had closed the door to the elevator car, Tom pushed the button to bring the car back down. He loaded Bill and the rest of the luggage and up they went.

Georg stood patiently waiting for them. “Give me your key, Tom,” he said and, when Tom turned his back, he rifled through Tom’s backpack.

“What is all this junk?” Georg asked.

“Bill’s junk. My keys are in the outer pocket, Georg.”

Georg gave Bill a quick glance, but since the singer wasn’t talking, he focused on unlocking Tom’s door. 

“We’ll put the entire luggage in this room.” Tom pointed to the first door on the right. First, he concentrated on getting Bill inside and taking him to the living room. The young man sat down on the couch, leaned back, and closed his eyes. Then Tom went back to help Georg drag the suitcases. Once that was accomplished, all Tom needed was for Georg to leave again, but the man had bought himself a free chance to stick around, and Tom didn’t want him to.

In the hallway, Tom whispered, “Thanks for the hand, but you need to go, Georg.”

“Aww, come on. Mr. Moody Celebrity can’t sit there and sulk. We’re going to hit the clubs. What do you say?”

Tom couldn’t help chuckling. “I appreciate that you’re concerned about providing us entertainment for tonight, but this is not how it works at the moment.”

“Tom. You need to get laid,” Georg said.

Tom felt startled. “I need to get laid?” he asked.

“If you prioritise babysitting a teenager, then yes. You need to get laid.”

“Goodnight, Georg. Getting laid is the last thing on my mind, and no, you’re not going to hit on him.”

“But Tom, I’m bored.”

“Any other night but tonight. Call me in a week or so.”

“You’re serious? I can hit on him then?”

“Dream on, Hagen. Goodnight,” Tom repeated and began pushing Georg toward the still open door. Standing miffed at the landing, Georg shook his head.

“You’ve changed, man!”

“And remember you promised you wouldn’t tell a soul. Thanks for the help.”

“What the hell, Tom! You’re worse than my...”

“Later, then,” Tom interrupted and closed the door. 

Sighing, he went back to the living room. Bill regarded him with half slotted eyes. “Come here,” Tom said and assisted Bill to stand. “Wanna eat or sleep now?”

“Sleep, please,” Bill said, stumbling a little. “Haven’t walked this much since before the accident.” He laughed a little self-consciously.

Tom didn’t comment. He was appalled by Bill’s condition. Then at the same time, he thought Bill could be blamed for his current situation, too. It felt like he had rejected help, so maybe that was the root to the problem really. Anyway, Tom was going to stop asking questions about it, because Bill didn’t deserve to account for how things had been. What he had to look forward to was much more interesting. In a way, Tom’s goal _was_ to get fired, because then Bill wouldn’t need him anymore and would be able to take care of himself.

“Let’s get you settled.” He took Bill to his old room. He’d never taken his furniture with him when he went to college, since the old flat he had gotten had been furnished already. When he moved back in with his mother, it couldn’t have been more convenient. Now Bill was going to sleep here. When he thought about it, it was somewhat surreal. It also made him ridiculously happy, for the reason that he really liked Bill and looked forward to spending time with him.

“Where do you sleep?” Bill whispered.

“In here.” Tom took Bill to see his mother’s old bedroom.

“Is that a water bed?” Bill asked.

“Yeah? Why?” Then it dawned on Tom. “Oh... you’d be less prone to develop bed sores in a water bed.”

Bill nodded. “Was going to order one. Never got around to it, though.”

“How long did you stay in your house?” Tom asked.

“Less than a week.” Bill smiled. “Could I... just lie for a few minutes in it?” he then asked looking sheepishly.

“Are you going to push me out of my own bed? You cuckoo baby?” Tom asked, amused.

Embarrassed, Bill blushed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I was acting like...”

Tom laughed aloud and pointed toward his bed benevolently. The mattress was as close to wave less as you could adjust them, because Tom got sea sick if there was too much motion. Bill sat down heavily, rolling with the minimum motions that created. Tom proceeded to take off his guest’s jacket and shoes and gently helped Bill to lie down.

Sighing, Bill closed his eyes. “Heavenly.”

“Do you want your pants off?”

“Yes. Oh! But I should get back to my room?” Bill asked, a tiny hope was easily detectable in his small voice, and Tom was totally susceptible toward it.

Tom looked critically at the bed. It was a double bed, and could easily fit two grown persons. The question was if Bill had issues about sharing. Hesitatingly, Tom suggested nevertheless, “How about we share it? Would you mind that?” 

Smiling with a hopeful glint in his eyes, Bill shrugged delicately. “Yeah, okay,” he finally said like he was doing Tom a favour. Tom grinned back, wondering what brought up that proposal. He’d never asked other guys to share his bed ever before. The sheer concept was unthinkable; of course, he’d never asked other guys to share his bed! So when did this non-threatening relationship with Bill begin to escalate to such a degree? Tom honestly felt it came natural. Maybe because Bill came off as being girlishly vulnerable, and Tom wouldn’t mind sharing his bed with a vulnerable girl – even if it was platonically?

Tom smiled to himself and went to pick up his backpack from the hallway. He found Bill’s toothbrush and toothpaste and brought it to the bathroom to prepare it. Quickly, he ran over his own teeth with his own toothbrush, took a leak, and was finally ready to get back to Bill. The young man was already under the covers.

“You need your bottoms?”

Bill shook his head. 

“Need the bathroom?”

Bill shook his head again. “No. And I think I’ll try and talk as little as possible, Tom.”

“Okay. I can find a note pad and pen for you?”

“Thanks, but I can’t hold the pen.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Genius little old me. We’ll figure it out.” Tom sat Indian style in front of Bill and began to brush his teeth. “Want to rinse?” When Bill nodded, Tom got a glass of water for him. 

“I’ll get your duvet,” Tom said, but Bill rolled his eyes and gestured to Tom’s double duvet that would practically make him disappear beneath it once he lay down. Tom’s eyes shifted. Sharing the bed was one thing, sharing the same duvet was certainly another. Only, Tom’s duvet was quite big, comfy, and honestly, if Bill’s was added to the pile of bed wear that might be exaggerating everything. “Fine,” Tom agreed. 

Smiling, Bill burrowed fully under the duvet, finally ready to sleep. 

They looked at each other for a while, until Bill’s eyes became heavier, and finally he was gone. If today was the longest he had walked since the accident, it was no wonder Bill was already asleep at 7pm. Tom kept monitoring him for a while and felt comfort in the sight of his client asleep, completely at trust regarding Tom.

Tom’s stomach began to growl, and reluctantly he got up and went to the kitchen to fix himself some dinner. Tom wasn’t exactly a genius in the kitchen, and grabbed a TV dinner to nuke in the microwave oven. Occasionally, he did manage to make stuff from scratch, but usually when he had company. In a way, he looked forward to cook for the both of them. Grinning, he knew he had begun to think of Bill as a younger brother, maybe. At the moment, that was the best way Tom could categorise the feelings Bill stirred inside him. Tom was always at ease with his clients but with Bill, it was extraordinarily comfortable to take care of his needs – even the very private ones.

When his dinner was ready, Tom retrieved the plate lost in thought. What he really wanted to do was to go back to his bedroom, but the fumes of food might wake up Bill, and he didn’t want that to happen when the young man had just fallen asleep. Dutifully, he went to sit in the spacious living room. His laptop was stationed there on the dining table, and he remembered he wanted to Google Munich Motel. 

Opening a browser, Tom typed the name of the band, and more than a million options came up. The band’s webpage was the first link, so obviously, Tom could go there, but he wanted gossip. He wanted to read people’s opinions and, surfing around, he quickly got a few hints to what had happened around the time of the accident, and certainly after. Bill was in fact pushed out of Universal, out of the band, and even though management sugar coated their reasons, it was clear that Bill’s physical limitations had gotten his contact annulled; a paradox since Bill was the one who had started the band back when he was just a kid - the other band members just tagging along as more musicians were needed. Tom thought Bill had to be extremely bitter about it. More cause for a depression.

Tom saw paparazzi pictures of Bill from the accident. Seeing him injured was pretty tough. He’d been banged about in that bus severely when getting stuck in his bunk when it collapsed. Sighing, Tom surfed a few galleries with band pictures, and Bill had changed his looks several times in the relatively few years the band had been on top. Tom grinned. Somehow he _had_ noticed these looks, because he realised that even if he didn’t look at bands consciously, he still recognised a few things. Bill looked gorgeous in all the pictures. He was extremely good in front of a camera even if it wasn’t a photo shoot. He always tried to look his best, and Tom mused that hadn’t Bill chosen a career as a singer, he would have made a solid career as a super model.

Getting up, Tom went to slouch on the sofa and turned on the TV, but his thoughts were in the bedroom. He decided there was no point in not going back there and check up on Bill. After all, it had been two hours by now.

Quietly, Tom entered the bedroom and neared his guest. Bill was in a deep sleep, and he squatted in front of him. Bill’s lips were pouting and his eyebrows knitted. Small smiles erupted across his face from time to time, and Tom smiled back. Bill was dreaming. One of his hands held on to the duvet, exposing a bit of wrist, and Tom reached out and gently stroked the fine hairs there. Bill hand jumped slightly, and Tom retracted his hand in shock. Bill had felt that! A small murmur came from Bill and his brow smoothed out more evenly.

Carefully, Tom reached out again and touched the hairs in the opposite direction, and Bill responded again. The rapid movements of his eyes increased, so Tom got up and tiptoed away. Standing at the foot of the bed, Tom began to undress. He only used short pyjama bottoms, because he usually got too warm under the heavy duvet. Bill didn’t look too warm at all. He looked very cosy. Finding his sleep pants at the end of the bed, Tom put them on and came up to stand next to the bed on his own side. Bill was still lying in the same spot. The rapid eye movements made his face so alive.

Tom decided to make some more tests. Pulling off the elastic band that gathered his dreads, he slipped into bed and under the duvet facing Bill. Slowly, he turned Bill’s hand, making his palm point upwards. Bill’s fingers bent slightly, as they would naturally in that position. Bill’s hand and fingers were very beautiful. Long, slender, and elegant; his would be the perfect choice of hand for a manicure or jewellery commercial. Carefully, Tom let his fingertips travel from Bill’s wrist, across his palm and thread with his fingers. Reflexively, Bill’s fingers closed, squeezing Tom’s hand before it relaxed and released its grip again.

Tom’s brain stopped. White noise was all he heard for a few moments before he began to process that. Was Bill faking it? Or was he just so convinced he couldn’t feel anything that he actually believed it? Again, Tom let his fingertips stroke Bill’s. Bill responded to the stimuli and a small moan escaped his throat. Tom threaded his fingers with Bill’s and lay down. His thoughts were all over the place as he tried to fall asleep. His thumb drew gentle circles on Bill’s hand for a while until his motions stilled, and Tom had fallen asleep, too.

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	4. Chapter 4

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“Tom?”

Tom groaned in his sleep. Then suddenly he sat up in shock. Was he late? His clock hadn’t rung yet and, grabbing for it on the nightstand, he bewilderedly saw it wasn’t even set. 

“Tom?” a whisper caught his attention and turning, Tom saw a stranger in his bed. White streaked black hair was all over his pillow, including Tom’s, and it all came back to him. He got Bill Kaulitz as a client yesterday, and then everything went frighteningly fast, ending with Tom resigning his job and inviting the celebrity to live with him. Staring back at Bill, who looked just as apprehensive as Tom did, Tom then deflated and apologised.

“I’m sorry. I forgot about all of this during the night.”

“So did I,” Bill whispered back. “I almost panicked when I woke up... Tom? Toilet?”

“Of course.” Tom rubbed sleep out of his eyes, got out of bed, and went to Bill’s side.

Carefully, he pulled Bill up and made him get out of bed. Together they went to Tom’s bathroom and Bill had a look at the facilities. Darting a discrete look at Bill’s crotch, Tom saw his client was semi hard, so nothing to worry about today. 

“Could you hold it, too? Just to make sure I aim right?” Bill asked, clearly hinting at the slight erection he had.

Tom nodded and did what Bill wanted. Taking out his cock from the front of his underwear, he then put Bill’s hand around it and his own around Bill’s afterwards. His left arm went around Bill’s waist and he slid his hand up Bill’s pyjama jacket and exposed his tight little stomach. Tom’s hand rested on top of it, feeling the muscles clench slightly as he slowly caressed the smooth skin that his fingers and palm encountered.

Bill shivered against Tom, and he removed his hand, suddenly aware of how inappropriate it was.

Smiling a little, Bill quickly whispered, “I’m not used to this... people holding my dick.”

“Unfortunately, I am used to holding other people’s dicks,” Tom responded, as he kept an eye on the yellow stream hitting the toilet bowl.

“Oh... What...”

“I didn’t mean it as a negative thing, Bill. Just that it’s a problem to more people than you’d think. That they need assistance with personal hygiene.”

“Oh...” Bill repeated, but the tone was different. “Okay, I’m done now.”

Tom shook Bill, dabbed remaining drops from his penis with toilet paper before depositing it back inside his underwear.

“You often hold other guys’ dicks when they need to go?” Bill asked. Tom looked up and saw a faint smile on his face.

“No. That is not so often...” Tom explained nevertheless, sticking to the professional isms. “But after a toilet visit, some needs a bit of cleaning. If I didn’t do it for them, they’d stink.”

“I see,” Bill said. “Back in bed, please.”

Tom smiled and shrugged. “I need to... you know.”

“Oh, I can wait then,” Bill said and nodded.

Tom frowned. “Um...” He was going to say that he wanted privacy, but taking one look at Bill’s determined face, he suddenly knew that that was not going to happen. Bill wanted to stay. And, just like that, a shift from the strictly professional caretaker position to something entirely else was hitting Tom in the face quite unexpectedly. Bill’s message was clear: Tom got to watch and hold Bill’s dick and now Bill wanted to - not exactly touch – but definitely check out Tom’s dick. Self-consciously, Tom sucked at his lip ring, not even sure he could pee with an audience. Bill had no choice, he remembered, but Tom did. Fine. Bill could watch. It wouldn’t be much of a show anyway, and he expected Bill was just testing him. After that, he’d probably just want to go back to the bed room.

“Then stand there,” Tom said, pointing at the door for Bill to lean against. Positioning himself in front of the toilet, he pulled down his pyjamas bottoms enough to guide his cock over the waistband and, once he’d done that, the need to pee came automatically – audience or not. Bending his neck, his dreads tumbled all over his naked shoulders and hid his face from Bill’s scrutiny - if the younger man in fact was looking at his cock or just innocently waiting. 

Afterwards, as Tom washed his hands, he told himself it wasn’t a big deal really. The whole incident could be regarded as a small protest from Bill’s side that he didn’t have a choice but leaving all these private routines literally in the hands of somebody else.

“Your turn,” he said and took Bill to the sink and watched him wash his hands, too. Even though Bill struggled operating the pumping device of the soap, it went fairly well. Tom even thought about mentioning to Bill what he’d discovered last night, but perhaps later was a better time.

Tom went to stand by his side to take Bill back when his hand automatically smoothed up under Bill’s pyjama jacket. He definitely didn’t have to do that, he mused. Yes, Tom could just as well have supported Bill putting his hand on top of his clothes, but it was as if his hand missed touching Bill’s skin and his fingers flexed around the tiny waist inked with words. Bill didn’t say a word, not even a gasp and slowly went down the hall with Tom by his side.

Once they’d returned to Tom’s bedroom, Tom escorted Bill to sit down on the water bed. Bill motioned with his head that he wanted to get back under the duvet right away. Tom wasn’t keen on letting him now that they were awake anyway. It was a matter of changing Bill’s habits and making more of his days than sleeping them away. That was a huge part of why Tom wanted to be near him to turn his grey boring days into quality ones.

“I want to sleep some more,” Bill protested, when Tom wouldn’t let him but held on to his hands pulling at them with a smirk.

“No, you’re not,” Tom copied Bill’s wining. “We’re up, so let’s have some breakfast in the kitchen,” Tom suggested. He had a great kitchen like the one Bill had in his house, only Tom’s was very homey. Taking Bill to his room, Bill agreed with a dramatic sigh to get dressed in whatever Tom found in the first suitcase. It was a small white T-shirt with a very pretty golden glitter print, and just a pair of light blue Adidas jogging bottoms with green stripes down the side.

"Sit," Tom commanded Bill, and the popstar sat down heavily on the bed in the room. Kneeling in front of the former pop star, Tom began to dress Bill in the soft worn pants. Looking up for a moment, his warm brown eyes lingered on Bill’s. The younger man narrowed his almond shaped eyes before wriggling slightly impatiently in his seat. Cocking his head, he sent Tom a blinding smile that Tom returned immediately. A flutter in his stomach made the contact even more welcoming. The sensation lingered on for several moments before Tom refocused on his task. By now, he realised that he was cupping Bill’s small round knees in his palms. Quickly, he pulled off the band-aid that had rubbed loose during the night.

 _Focus, Tom,_ he admonished himself, but he really liked touching Bill and the gorgeous brunet hadn’t complained or recoiled from Tom handling him once, since they first met yesterday. Bill himself was very touchy feely around Tom, so when the both of them preferred to be tactile there really wasn’t anything to question about it. And so, Tom wasn’t going to create issues that didn’t exist. Still, had the situation called for Georg to suddenly initiate more interest in Tom the way he did Bill, Tom would have clocked him in the teeth and nuts without asking first what that was about. Also, for the record, Tom didn’t particularly like the thought of Georg’s blatant and crude interest in Bill and his virtues. Glancing at the sweet looking brunet’s skin; a light dusting of soft hairs covered them just the way they did Bill’s arms and even though it screamed of masculinity, Tom found it attractive and he wanted to feel if those hairs felt as soft as they looked.

“Go on, Tom,” Bill said. With a swift look at Bill, Tom really had to focus and remember that Bill wasn’t referring to his body hair but his clothes and quickly, he continued to pull the young man’s pants up. It had been a close call for Tom not to continue to smooth his hands up Bill’s knees and to his thighs.

Tom pushed his dreads over his shoulders, but to no use as they tumbled back freely around his face. Bill was staring intensely at him, taking in everything, and Tom realised Bill was checking him out again. Knowing his face was heating up, Tom tried to finish dressing Bill without showing how much it affected him. He had to try and stay professional. This behaviour of his, Tom had not expected when he made the deal with his client. As soon as he was done dressing Bill, Tom went to get dressed himself in his own bedroom, leaving Bill to sit on the bed and wait for him to return. Tom put on a pair of jeans in a size larger than those he wore at work. He couldn’t bike in XL pants, but he liked to wear them in private. Also, they would cover the effect Bill had on him. Tom would have to ignore it. If he had to be honest, he was a little turned on yesterday, too, when he watched pictures of Bill on his laptop. He would never admit that he saved some of them in a folder - a folder that would grow bigger. Pictures of Bill on stage with his jeans riding so low they exposed that delicious little stomach when he raised his arms in the air. Or during certain photo sessions when Bill’s beautiful eyes were painted so alluring Tom’s cock would jerk to inform him how pretty and sensual the teen came across. Abruptly, Tom left his bedroom before his thoughts made the situation worse. It was completely uncalled for.

“I’m not really sore today,” Bill announced when Tom came back into Bill’s room.

“What is different?” Tom asked, professionally interested.

“My hip and arse would hurt right now.”

“You’d need your meds now?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“So you get the meds because of the risk of pain from _bed sores_ and not phantom pain in your arms and fingers?”

Bill frowned obviously thinking. Then he slowly nodded. “Yeah. That’s it. Maybe I shouldn’t take them today if I’m not in any pain. It would be great if I could avoid them for a change.”

“They make you sleepy? You were almost out of it yesterday when I came in the morning.”

Bill nodded again and then he opened his mouth.

“Shhh...” Tom said kindly as he interrupted him, slipping into his caretaker role again. “You said you’d try and spare your voice. And I’ll have to check for bed sores later when you take a shower.” Tom saw a flash in Bill’s eyes and quickly explained, “I wasn’t trying to tell you in a subtle way that you smell, but I know you hadn’t showered yesterday and I don’t know if you did the day before and so on. I have a bathtub you can soak in. Let me know what you prefer, okay?”

Bill closed his mouth and looked up at Tom through thick lashes. Then he nodded slowly and just smiled timidly.

“Breakfast now?” Tom offered, and the young man nodded vigorously, letting Tom take his arm as they left his room. 

Bill’s legs seemed to move more fluently today and Tom smiled at him. Bill smiled back and Tom’s stomach fluttered slightly again. If Bill continued being this cooperative, it wouldn’t take long for the brunet to recuperate his balance and be able to walk by himself. Tom didn’t mind supporting Bill by the elbow, but still there was some way ahead before they met their goal, but it was definitely within reach.

“Would you like to sit in this stool?" Tom offered the young man who obliged. They were both quite tall – in the neighbourhood of 190 centimetres, and the chairs were meant to accommodate people with long legs. 

Leaning back in his seat, Bill sighed and looked around. “What’s for breakfast?” he whispered.

“You shouldn’t talk.”

“I...” Bill sighed; wanting to talk so very much that Tom could clearly see and feel his frustration.

“Seriously. If you stopped talking, your voice might get a chance to heal. I’m not saying you’ll be able to sing again, but at least talk without straining it too much.”

Bill looked at him concentratedly before he shrugged. Then he nodded and smiled.

Tom remembered his question. “Um... I have a bit of fruit if you’d like a fruit salad. I can shop later and get whatever you want.”

“Everything is later...” Bill whispered.

“Well, we’ve only just started, Bill. Once I know what to do, I can make a better schedule and not much will come as a surprise concerning all the practical things.” Bill nodded agreeable. “So fruit salad?”

Bill nodded again and pushed his hands between his legs.

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After breakfast, Tom took Bill to see his work out station. Bill stood immobile staring at the monstrosity, and Tom couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re not going to be doing this by yourself. Don’t worry, but it’s a good seat for me to work your legs.”

Bill turned and gawked at Tom with huge eyes, and then he slowly shook his head in disbelief. “No. Way. Ever!”

Tom nodded. “Oh, but you totally are.”

Bill shocked expression changed to what resembled anger. “You’re so fired, Tom!”

“Don’t be a grouch. It’ll be fun and you need it to get better!” Grinning, Tom began to guide Bill closer, although the weaker man tried to prevent him. Tom was much stronger and resisting his intent doomed futile from start.

Reluctantly, Bill acknowledged that. Closing his eyes, he let Tom arrange him on his back on the soft comfortable bench, giving over his body for Tom to exercise his legs. 

Tom improvised, declaring he had no clue what he was doing but that it couldn’t be worse than what Bill had endured with the physiotherapist on his way toward recoveries - or the lack of. Unceremoniously, Tom pulled Bill’s track pants off, and began to flex the weak limbs in his gentle hands. Massaging Bill’s small even toes and elegant instep made Bill flutter his eyes shut and grunt from the pleasurable stimuli. Tom smiled, remembering how Bill responded last night when he touched his fingers. What he hadn’t anticipated was the direct view to Bill's crotch. Swallowing, Tom had been able to ignore what Bill looked like in his small black boxer briefs. In the position the younger man way lying, Tom thought his buttocks were disturbingly pleasing to the eye. More so, in this position, Bill’s gender was insignificant. A cutely shaped backside was always a welcome sight no matter who they belonged to, and Tom felt himself harder again that morning. Slowly, Tom reached for some moisturiser he always had close by. Pouring some into his hands, he began to work the substance into Bill’s left calf, after he bent the leg at the knee joint.

Bill grunted again, and hissed.

“I’ll be gentler,” Tom promised and swallowed. Bill’s legs were so slender, so small in spite of them actually being as long as Tom’s own, but once more he was reminded of nothing but how pleasing they were in his hands. Bill’s eyes were now half slits and he looked concentrated at Tom. To Tom’s dismay, directly at the erection he wasn’t able to hide. Darting one look back at Bill’s cotton clad crotch, he saw Bill sported a matching one. But none of them addressed the matter. Tom assumed it had to be a guy thing. He would never admit anything but that to himself. Everything else would be unprofessional and Bill needed to trust that Tom could handle the close proximity and what else that happened with him in Tom’s care. Smiling, Tom felt better and reached for Bill’s other leg.

After half an hour, Bill complained that he couldn’t take anymore, and Tom stopped. The chemistry between them hadn’t died, but nevertheless, Tom’s erection had cooled off, and so had Bill’s. 

“I want to rest now. Next time I want to watch _you_ work out a sweat,” Bill threatened while Tom took him to the bedroom. 

“Want a shower?” Tom asked, suddenly worried that Bill felt gross or maybe needed to wank.

“No. Later. Rest now.” Bill got into bed and, equipped with the remote to Tom’s old TV, his phone handy with Tom’s number programmed, he asked to be left alone.

Tom nodded obediently and did as his client requested. “I’ll do some shopping now, so call if something comes up.” Bill just nodded, looking as if he’d already zoned out Tom. As soon as the door shut behind him, the sound of the TV was pushed up considerably, and Tom grinned wondering how much Bill had actually heard of what he’d said all morning. The young man was really good at lip-reading – when he paid attention.

When Bill had rested, Tom would arrange a shower before lunch. He might wait to take his own shower on the same occasion. Save water, energy, the rainforest, and all that jazz. 

The local supermarket was in the next block on street level, so Tom needn’t worry so much about Bill having any emergencies while he was away, but Tom also wanted to visit a well-assorted greengrocer, and took his time to go down the street and find some of the fruit and vegetables that Bill liked.

When Tom came home half an hour later, there was a guy dressed in Goth attire standing at the door looking curiously at him.

“You Tom Trümper?” he asked.

Tom nodded with a slight hesitation. “Who are you?”

“Bill called me. He told me he lived with you.”

“He did?” Tom asked, immediately cursing himself for admitting it already.

“Yeah. He wants me to see him.”

“Who are you?” Tom asked the stranger once more.

“A surprise from the past. Trust me - he wants to see me.”

Tom frowned. This was ridiculous. He thought that maybe he’d seen him before but there was no way he could place his handsome face. His eyes were not laden with joy at the prospect of visiting Bill, but maybe Tom was over protective. “Fine. But not for long. He’s very tired right now.”

“It won’t be long,” the visitor promised.

“Five minutes,” Tom warned him as he let the man inside the building and travel with him up the elevator. Once he unlocked his door and further let the man inside his home, Tom’s eyes widened as the character noisily strode down the hall and already began to yell out loud for Bill, opening all the doors on his way. 

“Shit!” Tom exclaimed and set down the bags of groceries. Then he quickly went to Bill’s room when the man entered, but never got in because the door was slammed in his face. Staring incredulously at the wooden slab, Tom could hardly believe the rudeness of the visitor’s behaviour. He didn’t catch Bill’s expression, because everything happened too fast. This was Tom’s home, but on the other hand, he had to respect if Bill did have some friends left to invite - even if they were out of line and...

Tom’s musings were interrupted by sudden shouts and groans coming from the room. There was too much commotion for that to be a normal visit between friends.

Tom’s mind was racing 110 kilometres per hour when Bill’s voice rasped in outrage; Tom couldn’t not interrupt and check up on the heated argument. Opening the door, Tom barged in and what he saw made his blood boil with rage. The Goth character was on top of Bill, hitting his face with a flat hand to stun him. He was trying to pull Bill’s legs apart judging by the odd way he worked his knees between Bill’s thighs. The attacked brunet was trying to defend himself, actually using his arms and hands to hit the guy back. Tom saw all these things as he ran to the bed. Grabbing the guy around the neck from behind, Tom dragged him off Bill, dragged him out of the room and down the hall, where he threw the bastard out of his home. Locking the door, he then took a peak out of the door spy but the guy was already running down the stairs.

Shaking from the adrenaline shock, Tom returned to Bill. His legs were shaky and his hands out of control as he pulled Bill to him and stroked his back with as much reassurance he could. Bill coughed and choked as he reacted toward the attack. His hair was dishevelled and his cheeks streamed from tears. His body shook as much as Tom’s and Tom held him even tighter. His own fears were taking over. He was so shocked and felt so violated on both his and Bill’s behalf.

“Did he try to rape you?” Tom asked. “Did he try?” He was furious at himself. How could he just let that guy into his home? He should have taken the time to check with Bill first. Had the guy been a true friend, he would have waited patiently until Tom had cleared everything. Never ever was he going to make that mistake again – he wouldn’t care if Bill’s own mother was his next visitor.

Bill screamed silently and shook his head vehemently. Then he nodded. “He thinks he has the right.”

“Who was that fucker?”

“Kasper. Kasper Lieberkind.”

“Why would he do that? Why did you let him know you’re here?” Tom demanded to know.

“He’s my... he’s supposed to be my boyfriend.”

“Oh really?” Tom guffawed appalled and completely thrown off track. “Not anymore I hope?”

“We never really broke up, but...”

“You’re not together? Say you’re not together!” Tom found himself almost pleading. He seriously couldn’t stand the thought of this character being anywhere near Bill. He hadn’t forgotten the phone call between these ex-lovers from yesterday. There wasn’t a milligram of compassion inside Kasper Lieberkind for Bill Kaulitz.

“No. But he still comes by and sort of takes up from where we left...”

“Gees!” Tom yelled. “To fuck you? You’re not a doormat!”

Bill stopped his sniffles and sent Tom a sharp glare.

Tom rubbed his neck and looked somewhere else. _He comes by for Bill to perhaps maintain some kind of a sex life..._ he wondered confused. He had to remember that Bill was only nineteen, cooped up in Tom’s flat with the raging hormones that came with his young age... but without an outlet. Tom acted like a jealous boyfriend. No, he corrected himself, quickly. He acted like a concerned _caretaker_. He definitely tried to handle the situation in his capacity as Bill’s caretaker. “I didn’t mean it like that...”

Bill shuddered and Tom gathered him in his arms hugging him close again. Bill struggled against him and confused, Tom had to back off when Bill was hitting him in the back with his fists. Once he let go of his harsh embrace, Bill breathed deeply and hugged him back. Tom disregarded the fact Bill was able to do it and just held him for a while longer.

“Why did you call him?” Tom finally asked.

“He called me. He said he wanted to discuss a possible contract and I believed him. Gave him your address. I didn’t initiate anything, I was stupid.”

“After your last phone call? You believed he wanted to discuss a contract?” 

Bill dismissed that as business as usual with an indifferent wave of his hand. 

“And the sex?” Tom inquired.

“Hhhhhh... Tom,” Bill breathed and shook his head. “No.”

“Good,” Tom declared triumphantly.

Bill calmed down and felt heavier in Tom’s arms. His client’s arms relaxed considerably. Tom smiled. He had decided to pretend Bill was still not able to use them. It was a nice fantasy and maybe Bill needed to stay in it for a while yet. Besides, adrenaline could work wonders in a stressful situation like the one Bill had just gone through.

“So he’s also sort of not your boyfriend?”

“I hate the bloody cunt.”

“Yeah. He’s easy to hate, huh?”

“Mhm,” Bill agreed.

“Would you like a bath? I could make you relax?”

Bill hummed his acceptance and Tom gently pulled away grasping Bill’s hands. The moment he touched them, he felt the slackness return and Bill looked positively helpless like he used to.

Tom pulled Bill across the soft moving mattress until they stood on the floor. He hugged Bill one more time because the brunet felt so good in his arms.

“Let’s shower,” Bill whispered. Tom let go of him and the look he found in Bill’s eyes, made him swallow. Bill was clearly expecting Tom to join him, and Tom wanted that, too. They moved to the hallway, Tom’s arm firmly attached to Bill’s waist.

“What’s that?” Bill asked pointing.

“Um... that would be my shopping bags.”

“Perhaps it would be a good idea to put those away?”

Tom sighed. “Yeah. That would probably be a good idea. Wanna give me a hand?”

Bill shook his head. “No. I can’t use my hands, remember?” he said, fluttering his fingers cutely to demonstrate.

Tom lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.

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Tom made Bill sit on the toilet lid. The young man closed his eyes occasionally as Tom pulled his shirt and pants off.

“You’re so gentle,” Bill whispered at him, and Tom quickly looked away from the raw emotions he found in his client’s eyes. “I love your... hands.”

Tom threw him a look, and Bill bit his lip. He understood Bill was trying to tell him something, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear it. It had only been two days.

Tom aided Bill into standing and pulled down his underwear. “You can sit down again.” Bill did as he was told and sat down delicately. Tom continued to pull his boxers over his knees and let them land on the mosaic-tiled floor. Cupping Bill’s knees, he finally looked up at Bill; letting his eyes run over the young man’s naked body before he captured Bill’s gaze.

“I love touching you,” he finally confessed in a whisper, anxious how Bill’s reaction would be. “You okay?”

“I know. And yeah. Don’t worry about it,” Bill whispered back with a warm smile in his expressive eyes. “Clothes off, Tom,” he then reminded him. “I’m getting cold.”

“You shouldn’t talk, Bill.” Tom let his hands travel up and down Bill’s thighs a few times, feeling the texture of the hairs. Then he resolutely stood up and undressed. 

“I always talk,” Bill replied following Tom’s motions. Tom cracked a grin.

“It must be real agony to have lost your ability to yap persistently, then?”

Bill snorted. “You have no idea. I would drive everybody crazy because I must comment on everything that goes on. I’m really bad with filters.”

Tom nodded and switched on the faucet, checking the temperature for a while and then came to fetch Bill. Pulling him up by his hands, Tom slowly dragged him along and let him enter the water first. Bill moaned quietly as the warmth engulfed his body. Then he turned and motioned for Tom to come into the stream with him. Not hesitating, Tom stepped into the water and immediately pulled Bill close, embracing him in his strong arms. Bill’s arms found their way around his neck and together they stood for a while and just hugged.

“I want a shave,” Bill whispered in Tom’s ear.

“Anything you want,” Tom replied and let a hand trail up to cup the nape of Bill’s neck. Neither of them had shaved for a few days and a routine had to be established. 

Reaching to the left, Tom found a soap dispenser on a small stand built into the wall. Pumping some into his hand, he then manoeuvred Bill out of the water and began to apply the liquid over his shoulders. Bill turned his head and laughed silently. His hair hung wet and shiny around his smiling face and Tom moved his hands around Bill’s neck, smearing the skin in the soapy suds. Bill moaned slightly and his smile became dreamy. Tom thought he was utterly gorgeous and his cock twitched, barely touching Bill’s abdominal. 

“Yes...” Bill sighed and his soundless laughter followed as he tried to pull Tom close.

Tom grinned. “You want to feel me?” he asked, feeling a little cocky.

“Oh, but Herr Trümper!” Bill announced pretending to be sullied. He let a hand travel across Tom’s wet eyelashes before picking up a soaked dread to play with. “You’re out of line, but I forgive you.” Bill swatted Tom’s nose with his hair, stepped into his caretaker’s space, and rubbed his crotch against Tom’s letting him feel his own hardness.

Tom pumped some more soap and pushed Bill back slightly. Then he boldly put his hands on Bill’s buttocks and began to clean the skin. 

Bill gasped. Obviously, he hadn’t anticipated that. Nor did he anticipate when Tom slid his hands inwards to reach the soft inner thighs. A shaky moan escaped Bill and his head cocked to the side with eyes closed once more. Letting go of the soggy dread, Bill snaked his skinny arms around Tom’s neck again and stepped back under the water.

Tom wrapped his hand around their cocks and began to jack the both of them off. A groan escaped him from the friction. It was the first time he’d wanked with someone else and this wasn’t an action of helping Bill to get rid of a painful erection. This was sex with a beautiful boy, and it felt awesome.

“Feels good,” Bill gasped in Tom’s ear.

“So good,” Tom replied.

“What?” Bill asked.

Tom laughed and sped up his motions.

“Feels good!” he said louder. Bill laughed, too.

 _“What?_ he asked again all smiles. Tom chuckled and kissed Bill’s wet lips.

“Mmmmmm...” Bill moaned and pressed his mouth firmer against Tom’s creating delicious wet kissing noises.

“You’re hot, Bill,” Tom said.

“Yes, it’s hot in here,” Bill said shaking his wet hair like a dog and they laughed excitedly. They were both so hard and Bill began moving his hips, trying to fuck into the sheath Tom’s hand created.

“You’ll slip, Bill,” Tom said only worrying for a second because the friction Bill made against his own cock was good. Perfect. Wonderful. And much too soon.

“Gonna cum,” Bill announced with a sinful rasp. Tom was closing in, too. The pleasurable telltale rush that told him his climax was building up was just a few moments away.

“Uuuh, yes,” Bill moaned labouredly, bringing his hand down to assist Tom in his hurried motions. 

“Me, too,” Tom chimed in. Seconds later, ropes of semen shot across their bellies to be washed away immediately by the steady pouring water.

Bill leaned in and pressed his slick lips to Tom’s with a goofy grin of post coital bliss. Tom puckered his lips and added a firm pressure to Bill’s.

Pulling away with a slurp, Bill laughed. “Didn’t get much cleaner, did we?”

Tom shook his head. “No. I’ll get around to it now.” Slipping back into his professional mask, Tom gently soaped Bill everywhere, making the young star moan in pleasure at being pampered. When Bill was washed clean again, Tom arranged him on the toilet seat in Tom’s own fluffy bath rope. Then he washed himself thoroughly and settled with just a towel around his waist and a smaller one to soak up his dripping dreads.

“What’s next?” Bill asked expectantly.

“Shut up, Billy. You have to stay quiet.” Bill looked surprised but complied. 

“Next is...” Tom opened a cupboard with a flourish and took out his shaving equipment. “...shaving those bad ass stubbles off.”

Bill smiled and nodded in agreement.

Squeezing out a dollop of cream, Tom applied it to Bill’s stubbly areas, picked up the razor, and shaved his face. Bill smiled as he turned his head this way and that to accommodate the right angle for Tom to run the sharp instrument across his skin. Cleaning the excess foam off his face Bill looked all baby faced and girly again. Tom swallowed. Why did Bill have to be so pretty? If Tom hadn’t known he was a boy he would sure have a difficult time establishing his client’s correct gender - a thought that crossed his mind many times a day and still left him in wonder since he saw him for the first time yesterday, and had to check him out to make sure he was looking at a boy. Bill was not a normal young man. He was an extraordinary young man. 

Tom put shaving cream on his own face and smiled at Bill who followed his motions with an interest, as if he’d never seen another guy perform the tedious task before. “Exciting, huh?” he smirked.

Bill nodded with his head cocked. “I hate shaving. I hate that I have facial hair that needs to be removed.”

Tom shrugged.

“I also wax my armpits and crotch.”

Tom turned his face and looked at Bill. “What about your arms and legs?”

“That’s... more natural somehow.”

Tom laughed and began to use the razor. “You’re weird.”

“Trust me. It looks gross with a bush of hairs under your arms when you’re wearing a nice top that shows... and then this flora of hairs sticks out?”

“I don’t get it,” Tom said and smiled at him. “I see why girls would want to wax and shave off every tiny body hair because society tells them it makes them look particularly feminine, but guys...?”

“Try shaving your armpits...” Bill goaded him.

Tom stopped and put both hands on either side of the sink. Then he looked pointedly at Bill and said, “No.” Picking up the task again, he darted a few looks at Bill who sat staring intensely at him as if that would make Tom agree.

“Whatever,” Bill finally sighed when Tom took a towel after washing his face. 

“I’m tired, Tom. I want to go back in bed.” Tom had noticed that Bill tended to have a squint in his left eye when he was tired and it showed now.

Nodding, he came to him and together they walked back to Tom’s bedroom. Quickly, Bill slid naked under the covers and Tom scratched his hair. This was becoming very familiar. Bill was extremely at ease with Tom, and Tom was likewise very at ease around Bill. 

“Is it okay if I check for bedsores now?” he asked. Bill nodded and stayed on his side with the upper leg bent. Tom hesitated a few seconds. He could see everything and the sight was extremely appetising. Getting a grip at the task, Tom stripped his towels, and put on some clean clothes. Then he slipped onto the bed and let his eyes and hands roam Bill’s body but found no shadows indicating that Bill had developed bedsores. That was good. It was fantastic, and Tom was relieved Bill did not have to suffer those. They took ages to get over, but what on earth had created Bill’s pains then? Tom gently pulled the duvet over Bill’s body. The younger man was sleeping softly, hardly reacted to Tom’s examination.

“Sleep well,” he said quietly and left the bedroom. It was time to be efficient now, and Tom had chores that he’d been procrastinating. Now Bill lived here, too, it wouldn’t do to prolong it further. Gathering laundry from the hamper in the bathroom, Tom went to the kitchen. His mother had installed her own washing machine in the kitchen, and that made cleaning clothes much handier than the public one in the basement. Tom decided to wash as many loads as he could today while Bill slept anyway. If the young man hadn’t bothered dressing for months, his clothes could probably use a round in the machine.

Going through all of Bill’s clothes, Tom began to sort the washable from the ones that could only be dry-cleaned. 

While the first load was running, Tom went to the dry cleaner down the street and handed over a large amount of pretty cool outfits. The girl managing the station went eye boggled at seeing the quality of the clothes Tom wanted to have cleaned.

“Are these yours?” she asked.

“Sure they are.” Tom was tall and slender enough to fit those clothes if it came down to a test. “The name is Tom Trümper. When can I pick them up?”

“It’ll take a couple of days.”

“Great. Take care of them. I’ll be cross if anything misses,” Tom said looking her straight in the eye.

“No, no. I’ll see to these personally,” the girl said wide-eyed.

“Thanks,” Tom replied with a smile and left, securing the pick-up ticket in his wallet.

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Tom set the table and returned to the kitchen to finish dinner. He’d simply taken one of his mother’s cooking books, opened a random page, and cooked what was in the recipe.

Bill showed up at the door, and Tom stared at him with wide eyes.

Bill smiled. “I think it’s working, you know. I was able to walk out here all by myself.”

 _But probably not that fast._ Tom grinned. “How long did it take you?”

“Oooohhh...” Bill frowned in thought. “Ten minutes? At least.”

“I bet,” Tom smirked. Bill pretended he didn’t see it and Tom’s smile grew wider. “Maybe you could pick out some drinks?”

Bill frowned. “But I can’t use my hands.”

Tom lifted an eyebrow.

Bill sucked in his lips. “Well... maybe just one at the time.”

“Of course. Just take one at the time. I want a coke.”

“Me, too,” Bill said. Then slower than slow, he moved back and forth from the fridge and to the living room until he had managed to put two cans of coke on the table. 

Tom was close to having a fit of silent laughter. He was so happy that Bill was beginning to slip out of his cocoon of neediness and self-pitying helplessness. At this point, Tom wasn’t so worried about Bill not needing Tom, because there were other things that mattered now that only Tom could provide and Bill was not able to let go of those now that he’d gotten them: Tom’s companionship.

Tom turned to Bill as he dragged himself back into the kitchen, supporting himself against every furniture and wall.

“You did fabulously,” Tom congratulated Bill, and the singer’s eyes shone with pride. Meeting him halfway, Tom took Bill into his arms and hugged him. A little shaky sigh escaped his client and Tom wound his arms more protectively around him.

“You’re going to be fine, Bill. You have no idea how much progress you’ve made since we met.”

Bill nodded. “Thank you, Tom.”

“Thank you yourself. I think I’m making my own progresses, too.” Retreating fractionally, Tom looked Bill in the eye. “Wanna eat?”

“Hm?” Bill asked, not paying much attention to anything other than reciprocating Tom’s scrutiny.

“Are you hungry?” Tom asked louder.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Bill replied and then he looked away and grabbed Tom’s hand. Together they walked to the living room, and Tom made Bill sit before he went back to the kitchen and fetched dinner to bring back to the dining table.

The two young men sat next to each other and dug into their nice meal, Tom helped Bill in the beginning, but Bill took some mouthfuls himself when there was to long between those provided by Tom.

“This is good,” Bill said, hardly remembering to close his mouth.

“Shhhh,” Tom said with a grin, referring to that Bill shouldn't use his voice.

“I’m just not even sure it’s going to make a difference, Tom,” Bill replied. “I was silent all the time I was unconscious, and it didn’t make a difference.”

“Surgery?” Tom suggested.

“I did have surgery,” Bill whispered. “They performed it right away when I was taken to the ER, because my vocal chords were bleeding.”

Tom just stared at him. “Shit... I didn’t know that.” 

Bill stopped chewing. “Do you like me, Tom?”

Tom lowered his fork and looked at Bill. The kisses they’d shared in the shower played before his eyes, and truthfully, he replied, “Yeah. A lot.”

Bill nodded with a small smile before he continued eating.

Tom’s phone suddenly rang. “Hello?” he answered after a quick grab to his pocket.

“Tom! It’s Georg. I was wondering if you guys want to go out tonight?”

Tom frowned a few moments completely taken aback by the abrupt invitation. “Uhhh... I... I’ll ask.” Tom covered the mouthpiece of the phone and, turning to Bill, he explained, “It’s Georg - he wants to go out... I don’t...”

“I wouldn’t mind!” Bill interrupted, “but on second thought, it’s probably not a good idea. I have no bodyguard...” Then he focused keenly on Tom, clearly having had a great idea.

“Oh, nonono!” Tom protested.

“You could take care of me! You’re doing it anyway.”

“You can’t even stand on your feet, Bill.”

Bill pouted annoyed. “Then he can come here?”

“You want that?” Tom asked, surprised.

“Sure. He can bring a few people. We can have a party.”

“You sure?” Bill narrowed his eyes impatiently and Tom took that as a yes. “Okay, Georg. You can bring a few friends, but if more shows up, I’ll kick you in the nuts.”

Georg was speechless for a few moments. “Okay,” he then agreed. “I’ll bring some boys and girls.”

“Don't even mention Bill to anybody in your dreams, Georg, or I’ll kick you in your already kicked nuts.”

“I won’t mention him. Lighten up, Tom.”

“Come by...” Tom looked at Bill who fluttered seven fingers in the air. “...by seven. And you bring your own drinks.”

“Got it,” Georg said and Tom disconnected.

“Wow...” Bill whisper chuckled, “You should have been my manager. You make things happen.”

“I am your manager,” Tom joked back.

“Do we have snacks? Do we have alcohol?” Bill asked.

“No and yes,” Tom said. “Fuck. All right. I’ll go shopping.”

“Can’t we just call a shop?” Bill asked.

“Delivery?” Tom asked.

“Yeah. I used to do it all the time. I think I have the... We can even order on line. Where is your laptop? Bill asked.

“My laptop?” Tom was quite frankly not following Bill.

“I have an account in some shop.”

“Fine.” Tom got up and brought his laptop to the table. Bill took the seat in front of it and waited impatiently for the thing to come alive. Quickly, he found the homepage for the online supermarket and within ten minutes, Bill had blown off the same amount of money for their party that usually made Tom’s modest weekly budget.

“What did we buy again?” Tom darted a look at the page they’d just been in.

“I’ll have to get my own lap to check my emails. “Oh shit!” Bill’s face erupted into glee. “I’ll have soooo many in my inbox. Hopefully, it’s not bursting at the seams.”

“Okay.” Tom was close to offer getting it for him, but he stopped in time. Bill was already trying to pull the chair back, but struggled a little. Tom got up and helped him, where after Bill took upon it himself to try to locate his computer in his room and carry it back to the living room.

Tom sat waiting for a little while. He wasn’t going to do anything unless Bill asked him. When nothing still didn’t happen, he began to clear the table and put the dirty dishes in the washing machine. After he’d checked the washing machine for the last load of clothes, he returned to sit down in the living room. Suddenly, his phone rang, and with a smirk, he answered, “Yes, Bill?”

“I can’t find it and the zippers are killing me.”

“Hostile zippers?”

“They’re dangerous,” Bill said, but Tom could hear the frustration behind the voice. 

“I’ll get on the case right away.”

“Har har,” Bill said and disconnected.

Tom got up and sauntered toward Bill’s room in anything but a hurry. Knocking firmly on the door, Tom let himself in without asking.

Bill sat on the floor looking like a girl who’d lost a diamond from her favourite earrings. “I can’t find it,” he said, his voice giving up and Tom didn’t find it so funny anymore.

He sat down next to Bill and asked, “Did you even check the suitcases?”

Bill shook his head. “I thought I was, but after one I didn’t know how to continue.”

Tom’s inner warning bells started to chime. He’d kind of forgotten about Bill’s depression because they’d had such a great day. This was probably why Bill couldn’t muster the will to just continue looking in the next suitcase for his laptop. However, Tom happened to remember that it was in the dove blue metallic case. Getting up, Tom went and found it right away tucked into its own little compartment along with the adapter. Bringing it back, Tom gave it to him. “Want me to cancel?”

“No, no. I want to have that party.”

Tom shrugged. Bill was already back to his usual mood after the tiny set back. Tom held the lap while Bill slowly walked next to him back to the living room, once more needing to appear sicker than he was. Tom knew it would be difficult to figure out precisely when Bill needed to be treated as sick and when he needed to be encouraged for doing progress. Where he’d been very optimistic earlier, now he had no idea how long this would take, but as long as they lived together, there really was no hurry. 

Finally, they were back in the living room, and Bill could set up his laptop. Using his own USB modem, he was on line shortly after. With an air of slight nervousness, Bill clicked into his e-mail. It took several minutes for all the several hundreds of messages to show, and Bill deleted every one of them except the last.

Tom gaped. “Don’t you think that was a little bit rash?”

“No.” Bill shook his head determinedly. “I don’t need to read letters addressed how _fucking sorry_ everyone is that they _unfortunately had to fire me_. I’ve had enough of those professional letters and don’t need to be reminded anymore by people who don’t even come and see me anymore... Kasper _not_ included,” Bill added bitingly. “So this is the first day of the rest of my emails.”

“That’s a fact,” Tom said, understanding immediately the reason behind Bill’s act just now. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his fingers on the top of his stomach. “So...” Tom said, pointing his interlaced hands toward Bill’s screen. “What did we get and when do we get it?”

Bill stuck a few fingers into his thick dark mane and stared at the mail from the web shop. Then he ran his nail down the list and said, “We got tons of crisps, the food stuff you ordered for tomorrow, condoms, dildos...”

“Bill!” Tom laughed and swatted the younger man’s shoulder. Bill grinned wordlessly and heaved for breath afterwards. Tom leaned closer to have a look at the receipt himself. Whistling once more, he still couldn’t quite believe that Bill had spent so much money just for a party.

“What?” Bill asked and darted a coy look at Tom. “Is there something we miss?”

“This is going to be a cool party,” Tom responded. Bill frowned at him. “Never mind. When is it arriving?” he asked louder.

Bill scrolled down a bit. “Half an hour - maybe? The page informed they had a shop close by your address.”

“Our address,” Tom corrected and smiled at Bill. 

Bill smiled back. “ _Our_ address.”

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	5. Chapter 5

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"Thanks!" Tom happily grabbed the last bag, as the delivery guy left his landing and hurried down the stairs.

Tom closed the door, and began to carry the groceries to the kitchen. Standing in front of a box, he peeked inside and smiled again by how much food they'd purchased. The bags were still on the floor. Bill joined him when he heard the door close in the hall. He seemed more confident again, and Tom stroked him gently across the back. 

"It's pretty exciting, huh?" Tom started to pull their purchases out of the cardboard box and lined everything up on the kitchen counter. He grabbed the bags, too, and laid those next to the others. When his hand grabbed a small tube of non-identifiable contents, his eyes flew to Bill's.

The young star began laughing ending in a minute long coughing session. "I just wanted to see your face, Tom," he rasped, wiping his eyes.

"Lube, Bill?" Tom shook his head. "I was hoping you were joking!"

"Nope. I bought a box of condoms, too."

"A box? You're planning on getting plenty of action tonight?" Tom was surprisingly hurt by that notion. "I'm not going to hold your dick for you during!"

Bill stopped smiling and Tom froze. He had no idea what went on in that second. Either he offended Bill because he wouldn't assist him while he was having sex with someone else, or... because it also meant he would not be the one having sex with Bill.

"I... it would be a boundary I can't cross. That's all." Tom thought about the kiss in the shower; how he got them both off, and wondered if Bill just thought of it as the service Tom provided as his personal assistant.

"I'm not the one with my head in the gutter, Tom," Bill said. 

Well, he had a point there.

"Nevertheless, you bought the stuff!" Tom responded. Bill definitely bought the stuff with his head in the gutter.

Bill smirked. "Got you all riled up for nothing then, huh?"

"Bitch," Tom said, not unkindly.

Bill tossed his hair. "Always." Then he shook his head. "I use it to apply glitter to my eyes. Satisfied?"

"With lube? Seriously?" Tom asked.

"Yes," Bill confirmed and shrugged. "Trick of the trade."

Tom shook his head but sighed in relief inwardly. Bill hadn't planned on getting any action tonight. Why he'd even think Bill thought he would be capable to it, he had no idea. This was Tom's fault. Bill was only joking when he bought the prophylactics... 

"How would we like our party then?" Tom asked.

"I think around the TV."

"We'll set up the snacks there. We can use the little table with the lamp for drinks?"

"Why don't we use the bar?" Bill asked with a raised eyebrow.

Tom turned and looked at the old furniture in the corner. "Haven't even looked at the thing for years." The old bar had been present in Tom's grandfather's home. His mother had brought it with her and now it stood collecting dust figuratively. Tom went and lowered the lid. Old liqueur bottles stood there glancing hopefully at him, but Tom didn't think they were worth drinking anymore. Who the hell drank Vermouth these days? 

"Leave the stuff, Tom. Maybe the guests can have a go at it?" Bill suggested as if he could read Tom's thoughts.

"Okay. But I said they should bring their own stuff."

"Exclusive this," Bill said, waving at the bottles.

"Okay," Tom repeated and shrugged.

"So, we need to set up the table with snacks. Tom, do we have bowls and containers like that?" Bill asked already planning ahead.

Tom got up and went to the kitchen. Shortly after, Bill arrived, completely forgetting to move slowly. "You want some of it mixed?" Tom asked.

"You know," Bill said, cocking a hip. "It's not just my party."

"Sorry. I didn't mean it like that," Tom apologised. "I think I'd like things separate..."

"No," Bill interrupted, "I want some of the snacks mixed."

"...ly." Tom narrowed his eyes. Bill did that on purpose. "Fine." He opened a couple of crisp bags and found a few bowls in the cupboards, and started filling them.

"Where's the sour cream?" Bill asked.

"For?" Tom responded. 

"The dip...?" Bill said. 

"It should be somewhere in one of the bags."

At first, Bill frowned, but then he did in fact pick it up and carefully mixed the powder with a tub of Crème Frâiche that Tom opened for him. "Mmmm," he said and licked the spoon.

"Don't put it back in!" Tom complained.

Bill stared at him haughtily. "Would I have done that?" 

"You... it looked like you would."

"Can't really prove it now," Bill huffed.

Tom narrowed his eyes and caught the smirk in the corner of Bill's mouth. That Bill... he was so fickle and delightfully cunning.

Working together, they soon had a great snack table of nuts, vegetables, fruits, and traditional crisps. It all looked very inviting and Tom was actually looking forward to the little party.

"Could you assist me with my makeup?" Bill suddenly asked Tom.

The request was a first time for Tom. Speaking the truth, he said, "I'm not sure I would know how to..."

"Pleeeease?" Bill fluttered his fingers in fake helplessness and Tom sighed.

"Fine. But I'm not good at this."

"I'll tell you exactly what to do!" Bill was immediately excited about the idea.

First, Tom sat patiently watching, while Bill eagerly rifled through his suitcases, looking for a suitable outfit to wear for the party. A different kind of energy worked for the young star with this kind of task, and he found a very pretty pink and white t-shirt with a lovely print in gold and silver. He matched the top with tight white pants laced up in the crotch. Changing quickly, he then went to sit in front of the mirror in their bedroom.

Tom licked his lip ring, trying to suppress the images his brain was creating for him. Bill's clothes were not for the faint of heart. The fabric clung to his long legs and it was impossible not to stare at his arse. That Tom knew exactly what Bill looked like underneath the revealing pants wasn't much help. 

Getting a grip, he took a seat next to Bill, awaiting his orders. Bill was busy checking his makeup box that was the largest of its kind that Tom had ever seen. Of course, in general, Tom didn't pay attention to makeup boxes, but he had seen some in his clients' bedrooms before, and his mother used to own one. Bill's was by far the largest. Nosily, Tom looked at the contents and eyed whatever Bill put on the desk as well as those he put back in. Finally, he seemed to have gathered all the things he needed and turned to look at Tom.

"I'm ready."

Tom smiled at the glee in Bill's beautiful eyes and he shrugged and pointed to the items lined up. "What do you want first?"

"Facial cream, foundation and..." Bill began to name the items in a specific order adding what sponge or brush to go with everything and, as he checked the result with each addition, Bill was soon transformed into a very pretty male. Tom remembered from the pictures he had found on the net that Bill looked very different with makeup on, but he wasn't quite prepared for the difference up front. Bill was stunning. Indeed, the super model type he'd imagined Bill could have been.

"You did a great job," he told Tom, clearly satisfied with the result.

"Right," Tom snorted, but was pleased that Bill thought he'd done it satisfactorily.

"You did. I always hate when other people touch my face, but..."

"I'm a natural," Tom laughed and ran an affectionate hand over Bill's hair.

"Aren't you going to get changed?" Bill asked, dabbing some glitter under his eyebrow.

Tom nodded. "I suppose I had better put something else on."

"I'm going to get wasted tonight," Bill promised himself in a singsong voice.

"You're still helping cleaning up the place if you have a hangover tomorrow," Tom said, but when Bill didn't reply, Tom knew that the younger man pretended he couldn't hear what Tom said.

"I need my hair done!" Bill exclaimed instead.

"Um..." Tom raised his eyebrow. "What?"

"Just put some spray in it and tease it," Bill quickly explained, and turned his delicate by now bejewelled wrists to indicate vaguely what he meant.

Tom snorted. He'd only ever been to the hairdresser like two-three times in his entire life. He had no clue - what so ever - on how to do another person's hair when he barely knew how to do his own but waxing it occasionally. There was only one thing to do. Snatching a can of spray from the table, he then resolutely took hold of some of Bill's soft locks and began spraying vigorously.

Bill cried out in outrage, but Tom just carried on. Then he grabbed a brush and divided some of the lacquered clumps. Before he knew it, in Tom's opinion, Bill's hair looked fairly close to how the singer used to look when he was still a front man.

"Done," Tom said, and Bill just stared at him and then he stared at his own reflection, his mouth agape in moderate shock. Tom decided that that was a wise moment to step out of the room. 

Shortly after, the door phone rang.

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"Come in, come in," Bill greeted Georg and the handful of people he'd managed to invite during the day. It was clear that Georg had done a great job telling his friends not to ogle the star, because none of them commented on Bill's celebrity status. Whether or not that was disappointing the young man or not, Tom couldn't decide, as he stood with his hand around Bill's waist to support him. Bill's hair looked a little different from what Tom had done to it, so he smirked knowing that Bill had decided to use his hands after all to fix the rape Tom had subjected to his coif.

Slipping out of Tom's grasp, Bill walked demonstratively slowly back to the living room. Once there, he sank down on the sofa, watching how everybody settled, talked, got some drinks and talked some more.

The party consisted of four boys and four girls. It was an okay number and, so far, Tom could tell that Bill really enjoyed himself. The guests talked equally with Bill and Tom as they did with each other. Tom knew the other boys, Gustav and Jochen, but the girls he had no clue who they were. 

Soon, music was put on and it seemed to loosen up everyone furthermore.

"Wanna dance?" Tom asked Bill, with a huge expectant smile on his face.

"You know I can't," Bill shrugged. "I'd look ridiculous if I danced," he whispered.

"You... you look...?" Tom asked confused, assuming that as a front man for a band Bill would have natural dancing skills.

Bill shrugged sheepishly. "I can't, Tom."

Feeling rejected, Tom scratched his ear and went to ask one of the girls who immediately complied. 

An hour later, when the others were still dancing, Georg decided to try to ask Bill to dance with him.

"I can't keep my balance," Bill rasped, regrettably.

"I could support you. I'm strong enough," Georg said, winking.

Bill laughed soundlessly. "You couldn't!" he hiccupped.

"Sure I could!" Georg smiled. He looked over his shoulder to check on Tom, but the dread head was having fun with Jochen and the girls. Everybody was a little louder due to drinking by now, including Bill.

"You sure I can't persuade you?" Georg tried once more.

"I'm sure," Bill giggled and saluted his glass at Georg's.

"I could hold your hand," Georg flirted.

Bill laughed softly and shrugged. "Why not?" He suddenly changed his mind, put his glass on the coffee table, and reached his arms up to be pulled to his feet. He was taller than Georg, but that didn't seem to faze either man. Georg heaved at his arm lightly, and led him to where the others were dancing a bit jumbled. Georg didn't just hold Bill's hand, but put them on his waist to steady the stumbling dancing they were doing. Bill undulated slightly in Georg's grasp and he leaned closer for balance.

"I should do your hair some time!" Bill giggled, running his hand through Georg's long silky hair.

Georg shook his head. "Noooo... I'm quite happy the way it is. Besides, isn't it a girly thing to do each other's hair?"

"Are you crazy? I'd never let you do my hair!" Bill said wide-eyed and smiled dazzlingly.

Georg smiled at Bill's cute outrageous expression and a wave of awe rushed through him. He was dancing with Bill fucking Kaulitz. Beautiful, carefree, and drunk. And totally accessible.

"You're so fucking hot, Bill," Georg whispered to him, coming on to the gorgeous boy in his arms. He let his fingers linger at Bill's tight waistband. Warm skin was teasing his fingertips when he moved them along the edge of Bill's small peeking hipbone above the sexy as hell pants he wore. It made him wonder if the young star was wearing any underwear the way the fabric was glued to his endless long legs.

"What?" Bill asked, leaning closer to be able to hear him.

"You're a babe!" Georg said louder, pressing his lips against the shell of Bill's ear.

Now _that_ was loud enough that Tom paid attention and, looking sharply across the room, he saw how close Georg was standing to Bill, practically grinding against the younger man's slender frame. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, and he left whomever he had danced with, and walked to the corner where Georg was busy getting acquainted with the gap of skin underneath the rim of Bill's little t-shirt. 

"Bill?" he asked, ridiculously worried and tense.

"Tom?" Bill grinned drunkenly.

"Can I have a word?"

"Now?" Bill shook his hair and it fell into his face making him look happy and unabashed.

"Yeah. _Now_ ," Tom responded and shot Georg a terse look that his friend had no problems catching the meaning of. 

"Gees, Tom!" Georg complained, "Bill's not exactly your virgin sister!"

"I'm not his sister," Bill parroted and his arms were wound around Tom's neck now, so Georg's dance was definitely over. "I'm his Bill."

Both Tom and Georg stopped in their tracks and looked at the beautiful singer. Tom's mouth stood open in astonishment. 

"Wow," Georg mumbled. "In just two days?"

Tom cradled a giggling Bill in his arms and let the singer try dancing with him, even as Tom stood still and tried making his brain function to providing an answer.

"He's become... attached," he finally said.

"You could be in trouble." Georg frowned.

"I'm his P.A., Hagen. He can do what ever the fuck he wants to me as long as I approve of it," Tom reminded him. "It's more like a..." Tom didn't know what to call their arrangement in that moment. It was much more. As Bill clung to him slurring happy drunken words, Tom knew the teen cared about him. It was beyond the sex they had initiated and beyond caring by now. Tom was much too fond of Bill to solely say that he only took care of Bill because he was helpless. Tom's explanation didn't stop Georg from checking out Bill's arse, and Tom hugged him closer. He felt emotions racing inside him, trying to reach first place: Love? Passion? Possession maybe even? He sure didn't want Georg's eyes anywhere near Bill's arse or the sliver of naked skin he'd seen him feel up.

"You've fallen for him, you little shit?" Georg finally said, cracking a knowing smile. "Damn. I honestly thought I stood a chance!"

"Hey!" the girls shouted at them. "Pay some attention to us, too!"

"Pay attention to the ladies you dragged along, Georg," Tom said and pushed his face into Bill's fragrant neck. He supposed he should have gone back to the girl he danced with but, right now, once he realised how close he and Bill really were, tonight, he thought of them as being together. None of the girls interested him.

"You're my Bill?" he finally asked and chuckled with an undisguised pride.

Bill swivelled back to looking Tom in the eyes. The expressiveness in their brown depth made Tom stop breathing for a few moments until Bill blinked slowly. "What did you say?" Bill asked.

Tom took in the long lush lashes, curled and coloured by mascara just so to make them seem even longer. Tom liked that. Bill's face was pretty in its natural state but made up for partying, a bloke didn't stand a chance but to feel sexually attracted to the natural performer. 

Tom smirked, "I said: Do you belong to me only?"

Bill charmed closer if that was even possible. "What are you saying?" he asked again, and cocked his head.

Tom had to swallow when Bill's face was inclined toward him. "I'm your master," Tom dared to jest. 

"If only you could be clearer on that," Bill said, parting his glossed lips.

"Gods, you have gorgeous lips," Tom said shakily, snared willingly by Bill's charms and the beautiful pouty shape of his lips.

"Want to have taste?" Bill offered, his voice breaking slightly as his eyelids fell at half-mast, clearly inviting Tom.

"You're drunk. We're drunk," Tom said, darting a self-conscious look toward Georg who was grinding with one of the girls instead, clearly back in the game after the small set back. Jochen was busy on the floor with his date, which left the last girl sitting talking with Gustav and his girl.

"I usually lose control when I'm drunk. You should take advantage of that, Tommy," Bill cooed and ground into Tom's interested crotch, his slender arms wrapping tighter around Tom's neck.

 _Tommy?_ Tom smiled and pressed his lips to the corner of Bill's mouth. "Later, baby," he couldn't help saying.

"Baby? Seriously?" Bill repeated. Then he hit Tom hard in the shoulder and disentangled himself. Walking on shaky legs from him toward the sofa, he shot Tom a heated look.

Tom licked his lip ring and followed, aroused and a little anxious. What did he do to piss off Bill? Gods he's always hated it when girls played the hard-to-get game. He had no clue how to handle it from a boy.

Bill deliberately squeezed in between the two girls and Tom took a single seat staring at Bill with keen attention.

"Thought you two were glued to each other," Gustav said dryly.

"No. I know where to find him," Tom responded reaching for his glass, his eyes trained on Bill.

"And I thought you couldn't keep your balance, Bill," Georg laughed boisterously, as he came back to the table, too, his dancing partner on tow.

"Don't bother going there," Tom laughed back, as Bill pretended he couldn't hear Georg's snarky question.

Bill grabbed a handful of popcorn and stuffed his mouth. Then he took a sip of his glass and looked at Tom a few seconds before he began charming one of the girls instead.

"Can you lick your elbow? It's not physically possible," Bill asked leaning close.

The girl laughed and of course had to try and failed gloriously.

Bill giggled. "Nine out of ten have to try!" The girl giggled, too, but kept trying even though it wasn't possible.

"Kiss the underside of your bicep, Bill!" Georg said kissing the side of one of his own bombastic rock hard biceps. 

"I can't!" Bill whined and giggled with a wheeze. "I don't have any!" 

Tom sighed and sprawled out on the chair. Spreading his legs to a comfortable stance, Tom let his eyes wander to every one present. The girl who wasn't involved in Bill's conversation came over and draped herself all over Tom's lap. For the moment, he let her and put his arms around her. His eyes were glued to Bill, though. Bill's eyes were sending seductive glances back at Tom every other second, and his hoarse laugh seemed forced and phony. Tom smiled. _You don't have to try so hard, Bill. I'm only focused on you right now,_ Tom responded with his own eyes.

"Wanna go somewhere and get cosier?" the girl suddenly asked Tom.

Tom shook his head, because the only person he was interested in getting cosy with was Bill. "I don't think so," he said. 

"Oh..." the girl said, but didn't seem deterred. "You have nice hands."

Tom took a few seconds to look at her after than odd statement. Looking down at his hands, he wondered what made her say so. Tom's hands weren't masculine the way Georg or Gustav's were. They were actually slender and long fingered like Bill's. Looking back up at the girl, he saw the curiosity in her eyes and, if he hadn't been so focused on Bill, he supposed he would have found her interesting, too. Georg sure had taken his sweet time to find attractive guests. But Tom wasn't attracted to her, or the other girls. He was only interested in Bill... who was now feeling up the girl next to him. Tom almost dropped the girl in his own lap to the floor. Controlling himself a few moments, he looked closer at his roommate and, sure enough, Bill was only trying to get a rise out of Tom, and Tom was drunk and horny enough to give it to him.

"Excuse me," Tom said and got up. "Bill? I think it's time to go to bed."

Bill giggled as he bit the girl's earlobe playfully.

"What are you his babysitter?" the girl next to Bill asked, looking incredulous, but just one glance at her host and she shut up. Tom probably looked like he was ready to commit murder, and he didn't care what people thought.

Tom went to Bill, pulled the girl over to the seat next to Bill, and dragged the brunet on his feet. Bill swayed close enough to overbalance. Tom steadied him and forced him to look at him. "Say goodnight, Bill."

Bill opened his mouth and then shut it again. His frowned confused and then he smiled and put his arms around Tom's neck. "Goodnight everybodyyyy! Take me to bed, Tommy."

Georg and Gustav coughed blatantly and made no attempt to hide how whipped they thought Tom had become. Openly, they chuckled at Bill's nickname for their friend and the blunt demand from the feminine boy. The girls, however, didn't find it funny.

"And where do we sleep?"

Georg grinned. "Sorry. I couldn't bargain _Tommy_ into letting all of us sleep here, too. You can come to my place. He and Bill will need every room, I think."

"What time is it?" Gustav asked, already bored by the prospect of Tom getting laid.

"Close to midnight," Georg answered.

"I don't think I want to continue the party elsewhere once we break up," the blond man said.

"All right. Goodnight then, guys. Thanks for housing us," Georg said and nodded toward Tom who kept a firm arm around Bill's waist.

"He gets to sleep here?" one if the girls asked.

"He lives here," Georg said. Then he frowned. That was probably not a good idea to reveal. "Tom lives here," he added.

"I figured that, smart arse," the girl replied, "I meant Bill Kaulitz."

"I have no idea where he lives," Georg lied, irritated that the girl had forgotten the clause that allowed her to attend the party: not to make a deal out of Bill's celebrity status, and certainly not where he lived.

Gustav laughed. "Nice save, Hagen. Like they'll even remember _Tom's_ address in the morning."

Nodding with a smile, Georg cast a glance in Tom's direction, but their friend was already on his way, holding his precious stumbling charge tightly. Georg's smile turned into a smirk. Tom was not aware of it, but Bill sure was. Bill Kaulitz acted as if he was Tom's boyfriend, and Tom was wound around his little finger. Caretaker or not.

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Walking determinedly to his bedroom, Tom made Bill sit on the waterbed. Gently, he pressed Bill back, and the younger man fell on the soft covers with a giggle. Bill looked coyly at Tom and spread his arms out above his head, looking utterly comely. 

Moments later, Bill's eyelids closed and he whispered, "I'm tired, Tom."

Tom smiled. "I know. You put on a fabulous show, gave it all you got, and now you've exhausted yourself."

"I still meant what I said," Bill croaked, his voice strained after too much use and too many cigarettes tonight.

"Sleep, Bill," Tom said and bent forward, hovering over him. "I'll just say goodnight to the guys."

Bill didn't respond. He was already breathing heavily.

By the look of Bill, Tom's heart clenched. The singer was so beautiful in every way, and he ached to touch him. However, there were still a few things to attend to and, returning to the living room, he saw their guests breaking up from the party. "Thanks for stopping by." He smiled at Georg.

"Thought you wouldn't enjoy yourself as much as you did?"

"Well..." Tom dragged out.

"Anytime, Tommy," Georg teased.

"Heard that, did you?" Tom responded.

"Ha-ha, of course. Bill has the hots for you so bad, Tom, you know? Why don't you go and give him something?" Georg leered, suggestively.

"You're getting a kick out this, right?" Tom shook his head with an eyebrow raised. "He's drunk, Georg. If I wanted to give him anything, it would be breakfast in the morning and a pill to swallow down his... Fuck..." Tom stopped. "I'd better give him something now so he won't have a hangover tomorrow."

"Do that and I'll guide everybody out," Georg said.

"See you around, Georg."

"We could go out some other time?" Georg suggested.

"Not now. 'Nite." Tom was already headed for the bathroom cabinet to pick some painkillers for Bill and a glass of water. Resolutely, he marched back to the bedroom and lifted Bill's head.

"Take this or you'll be intolerable tomorrow," Tom said.

Bill slurred half-awake but did it nevertheless. Apparently, he was used to swallowing pills on command from his time spent in the hospital. Having drunk half of the water, Bill turned his head away. "No more," he rasped.

Tom wasn't so drunk he'd get a hangover tomorrow, so he just finished the rest of the water, got up, and closed the lights. He debated that he should have gone to the loo, and the need pressed on the more he thought about it. 

"Gotta take a piss. Be right back," he told Bill.

"Uh. Uhuh... Me, too," Bill slurred. Tom looked at him. Of course, Bill needed to take a leak, as well. Tom came back to stand in front of him, and pulled him up to stand on his feet. Bill protested with a sleepy sway, but he did walk with Tom to the bathroom.

"Can I go first?" Bill whispered incredibly loud in the resonant bathroom.

Tom smiled. "Sure. Need any help?"

"Mhm," Bill confirmed. Still, he unlaced his tight pants all by himself, and pulled those down along with his underwear. Tom licked his lip ring. Clearly, Bill was able to hold his own dick, yet wanted Tom to do it for him. "Anytime or I'll piss myself," Bill complained.

Reaching around Bill, Tom grabbed the flaccid organ. Putting his left hand around Bill's warm stomach, he moved closer and moulded himself against the long spine. 

"Jerk me off, Tom," Bill moaned slightly, and dropped his head on Tom's shoulder. 

Tom heard his demand. Of course, he did, and he felt Bill's cock getting harder. Swallowing, he had to focus and get the first priority done with. "Take a leak, Bill," he said. 

Bill nodded and did as Tom said. Small eruptions of giggles ensued from him. "You like holding my dick? Do you, Tom?"

"Don't talk so much. You won't be able to squeak out another word tomorrow with all the filth coming out of you."

Bill giggled even more like a naughty boy who'd just discovered that a pussy and dick were actually supposed to match each other. "Tom like's Bill's cock. Bad boy," Bill sing-songed and rubbed his soft naked buttocks against Tom's crotch.

"Jesus, Bill," Tom gasped. Did he mean himself or did he mean Tom? Tom didn't feel bad, and Bill certainly didn't act as if he was worried about it. 

"Please, Tom," Bill whispered, an unmistakably horny lilt to his raspy voice. The brunet tilted his head and his mouth was seeking Tom's.

"Fuck it," Tom said, and put his lips against Bill's. Bill parted his mouth and Tom kissed him deeper. Bill moaned and, simultaneously, began to piss into the toilet. Tom broke the kiss and grinned. Bill was certainly not boring. Tom could always count on something unexpectedly happening in his company.

His aim was perfect and once Bill was done, he shook him and dabbed some toilet paper to catch remaining drops. "Uhh, tired," Bill said.

"No wanking?" Tom asked, almost laughing.

"Uh... uh..." Bill turned his neck and looked confused at Tom.

"Bed?" Tom suggested.

"Tom..." Bill frowned and looked imploringly.

"What is it Bill?" Tom asked. Bill turned to face him and Tom put his arms around him, holding him for a while. "I'm holding you," Tom added quietly.

"Please," Bill whispered as a small shiver ran through his body. 

Tom kissed his neck and, slowly, his hands travelled down and pulled Bill's clothes back in place. Gently, he assisted Bill back to bed and helped him to change into his pyjamas. Tom quickly went and did his business in the bathroom before he returned and changed into his sleeping attire. Then Tom crawled under the sheets and moved close to Bill. Bill wriggled about to face Tom and let himself be wrapped in Tom's arms.

"Hold me," Bill whispered.

"Did you like the party?" Tom asked.

"No," Bill murmured. "Why would I party with people I don't know?"

Tom sighed. Bill would probably feel different tomorrow. Bending his neck slightly, he kissed his mouth. Bill hummed softly and parted his lips for him, letting the sweet kiss deepen. Their legs entwined naturally and Tom felt relaxed as he nipped and kissed Bill's lips and face. Bill didn't respond but was clearly enjoying Tom's attention.

"Do you like me?" Bill asked.

Tom pressed one last kiss to his cheek. "Yes. I like you. You're a sweet and funny guy."

"Do you like Bill Kaulitz?" Bill asked.

"No. I don't know that guy. I like you better," Tom said, and Bill's eyes immediately took a shine that told Tom he'd said the words he needed to hear.

Bill's breath hitched and he curled his upper arm around Tom's shoulder. "You're so good to me. I don't know what I'd done without you, Tom."

"You're good to me, too. I'm glad we met, Bill," Tom whispered. Bill's chest heaved a few times, clearly trying to keep himself from having a good cry. 

"I should probably take off my makeup."

"Shhhhh..." Tom soothed him. He didn't care about the stains.

Tom closed his eyes and fell asleep when Bill did.

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	6. Chapter 6

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The next morning, Tom awoke alone. Sitting up, his heart began to race. “Bill?” he called out. “Fuck...” Bill couldn’t hear him even if he called out louder. Getting out of bed, Tom struggled to force his brain to wake up in the same tempo, but he automatically began to search the flat for the brunet. He found him right away sitting by the table in the living room, working on his laptop. He’d already made coffee, and Tom sighed leaning against the open door.

“Morning,” he greeted.

Bill looked up and stopped typing.

“Morning.” 

“How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Bill said. “I cleaned the room. We had some party last night!” 

“You were drunk,” Tom pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I think we all were.” Bill typed some more.

Narrowing his eyes, Tom cocked his head. “All dressed and everything?”

“Sure,” Bill said. He’d obviously not needed Tom’s help this morning. At all. 

“You’re okay? All this activity so early in the morning.” 

“Tom...” Bill stopped his typing. “We need to talk about something.”

“I think you need to go back to bed. You’re not really well,” Tom said, sarcastically.

Bill’s eyes drifted toward Tom. “Excuse me?”

“And you shouldn’t exhaust yourself walking to and fro the kitchen like you’ve done this morning. I should have heard you.”

“Maybe I was very quiet...” Bill’s eyebrow lifted in warning.

Tom dropped the act and smirked as he came closer. “That’s good. What did you want to talk about?” He sat in the chair next to Bill and focused on the young man.

“I...” Bill ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged. “I _think_ I might be getting better.”

“You’re right.” Tom smiled and reached out to caress Bill’s nape. “But I’m not kicking you out just because you’re getting better. This isn’t a hotel. This is my home, and I invited you to stay.”

“Tom...” Bill cleared his voice and unexpected dread filled the blond man.

“You want to leave? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

Bill sat up straight. “NO!” Then he slumped.

“You’re telling me you want to stay – even if you’re getting better?”

“Tom...” Bill pleaded and Tom sucked in his lips to demonstrate he wouldn’t interrupt again. His hand fondled the soft hair he encountered as he continued to caress Bill. 

“I’m telling you that I am getting better. I feel good. You... you make me feel good,” Bill whispered quietly.

Tom smiled and grabbed Bill’s hand, but the singer shook himself loose. Bill got up and grabbed the back of his chair, looking intensely at Tom. Then he bent and kissed him on the lips. A firm short kiss. Clearly, Bill was becoming agitated, so Tom got up in a hurry and pulled him close. He could feel the deep breath coming from Bill, as he seemed to calm down.

“You can stay. For as long as you want, Bill. You make me feel good, too. I told you yesterday.”

“And I heard you,” Bill said holding on tighter. “Just needed to make sure you meant it.”

“I won’t change my mind, Bill. I’ll never fuck with you, okay?”

“Okay,” Bill let out another deep breath. 

“Did you dress all by yourself?”

“Yeah...” Bill replied. “I can dress myself... only not when I need your help.”

“That’s great. Makes perfectly sense,” Tom responded, smiling into Bill’s hair. “And then I’ll help you.”

“Maybe, we can do some exercises?”

“You need those? I’ll gladly give you some later. Do you want some breakfast?”

Bill nodded. “Yes.”

Tom nodded and went to the kitchen to have a look. As expected it looked disastrous, but he just loaded the dishwasher, kept the rest on hold, and made breakfast for Bill and himself instead. He also needed to hang up the rest of the clothes in the washing machine, but it would have to wait. 

Balancing everything, Tom put the fruit salad on the table next to Bill. He held on to a cup of coffee and sat down. Bill had finished whatever he was doing on his laptop and dug into his meal with an appetite glancing at Tom most of the time. Tom ate slower, watching Bill and wanting to touch him. Reaching over, he put a hand on top of Bill’s free one. The brunet turned his hand and their fingers interlaced. A silent understanding of the affection that was growing between them.

Tom squeezed Bill’s hand lightly. Bill didn’t reciprocate, and Tom smiled. Bill pretended to be weak again. 

After breakfast, Tom went to his small guestroom that was now turned into his laundry room for folding and hanging up washed clothes. Opening a window, he folded the clothes that was already dry and hung up the last load. Bill stood watching and laughed at Tom, threatening him to change his status from P.A. to his house wife. Tom liked that and threw a wet t-shirt in Bill’s face.

When Tom was done with the chore, the two went outside in the small courtyard. Both had a smoke and just enjoyed their leisured walk. Bill snuggled under Tom’s arm hugging his shoulder. The young singer walked agonisingly slow.

“You okay?” Tom asked. He refrained from acting more intimate. People could be watching them from their windows, and he didn’t want to subject either of them to their scrutinising nosiness. Still, he pressed a quick kiss to Bill’s temple, rejoicing his own happiness.

“I’m tired, Tom,” Bill said and turned to face him. His hands went to grasp the lapel on either side of Tom’s open jacket. “Come to bed with me?” he asked.

Tom sucked in his lips and nodded. “Okay.” With Bill, it was always wise to analyse afterwards what exactly he meant.

Walking back to the flat, Tom helped Bill into the elevator and let him rest against his body, arms hanging slack against his sides. “You need vitamins, Bill,” Tom said.

“I stopped the painkillers cold turkey. Did you notice that?” Bill responded.

Yeah, Tom had noticed, but he’d also forgotten. “Are you in pain? The pills you took, should have left some kind of withdrawal symptoms?”

“I didn’t take them long enough.” Bill looked at Tom, and Tom looked back. As soon as they were back inside the flat, Tom helped Bill back to the bedroom. Then he went with long strides to the bathroom and grabbed the bottle from the cabinet. The bottle contained fifty pills and when Tom shook them out, only four were missing. Taking a long deep breath, Tom closed his eyes. Bill hadn’t been on these pills at all. Only the ones the nurse and Tom had given to him had entered Bill’s blood stream. Was Bill’s uncle responsible for prescribing him pills he didn’t need? These were some serious shit. Tom put the pills back into the bottle and returned to Bill, who was now undressing. It was time for a serious talk.

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“Bill?” Tom stopped talking because Bill had stripped down to his underwear and the sight made Tom’s brain silly.

“Yes?” He looked up, and his face was neutral.

Tom entered the room and went to kneel in front of Bill who sat on the edge of the bed. Putting his hands on Bill’s small knees, he cupped them gently and asked, “What do you want?”

“I want to stay here with you.”

“Why?”

“I like you,” Bill confessed.

“Good. We’re getting somewhere then,” Tom said and looked Bill directly in the eyes. “I want you to stay with me, too. I like your company. Just stop these games.”

Bill looked away and bit his lip.

“I love taking care of you.”

“Then take care of me. Don’t ask to say it.”

“Wouldn’t you be happier to be able to do things by yourself? You know you’re well enough now.”

“I...”

“Bill. You’re not physically sick. I’m not happy about you trying to make yourself worse.”

“But I need you,” Bill croaked.

“I know and you have me,” Tom said. Looking down, he realised what he was saying.

“Are you gay?” Bill asked.

“No. I mean... maybe,” Tom added quickly.

“You like me _that_ way?” Bill insisted.

Tom stared at Bill’s wounded eyes, leaned forward spontaneously, and captured his lips in a firm kiss. Retreating he missed the sensation already and lunged forward once more to steal another. And another until Bill hooked his arms around his neck and pulled him down to the bed with him. Landing on top of Bill, Tom instantly moulded himself to Bill’s body. His hands cupped Bill’s face and he took more hungry kisses from Bill’s sweet mouth.

“Want you,” Bill whispered in a broken moan as he wrapped his long legs around Tom’s body.

Tom’s breath shuddered against Bill’s skin. “Then you’ll need to fire me, Bill.”

“You’re fired, Tom,” Bill parroted.

Tom chuckled. Clearly, Bill wasn’t using his brain right now. “Herr Kaulitz. You haven’t even paid me for the last two days.”

Giggling cutely, Bill said brattishly, “You’re unskilled, Tom. I can do what I want.” Tom leaned in and bit Bill’s straight nose. Bill’s hands reached up and grabbed two handfuls of dreads pulling Tom back.

“I’m a graphics designer, Bill. Hardly unskilled.”

Bill stared at him. “I’m the unskilled here, then.”

“You’re a professional musician. Hardly unskilled.”

“Can’t play an instrument,” Bill reminded Tom.

“Your voice is an instrument. How is the rest of the band doing in the singing department?” Tom asked him.

“Um...” Bill hesitated.

“Better than you?”

Bill shook his head. “No. I was the best.”

“There you go! Let that Lieberkind imbecile try and master your songs.”

Bill clung to him again. “You’re good for my ego, Tom. Kasper can’t hit the same notes that I can. They’ll have to butcher my fucking songs to match his so-called voice.”

 _Good. You need lots of ego, Bill,_ Tom thought. Tom kissed him, and then he kissed his neck. “Your neck is so elegant,” Tom murmured. “A swan neck.”

Bill swallowed. “Thank you.” Craning his swan neck – as Tom so lovingly named it – he darted a curious glance toward a corner of Tom’s bedroom. “What is that guitar doing there?”

Looking up a few seconds, Tom frowned. “What guitar? Oh!” He rolled off Bill and let his mind take in his old guitar. “Haven’t really played since before my mother died.”

“Your mother is dead?” Bill asked with huge eyes.

“Yeah. This was her place. Now it’s mine.” Looking at Bill, he asked, “You miss your family?”

“Not yet!” Bill assured him. “You miss your mum?”

“Every day, but it gets easier every day, too. Taking care of you and my other clients has been a great buffer to get past my sorrow.”

“I’m sorry,” Bill said and then he looked like the subject bored him. That was okay. Tom didn’t feel like talking about it either and darted in for a new kissing session, which Bill gladly granted him.

Tom burrowed deeper into Bill’s pliant body and smiled luxuriously when he felt Bill’s bulge grow harder. “Considering how skinny you are, you’re a nice cushion,” Tom joked.

Bill sighed and hummed. “You don’t feel I tricked you into anything?” he suddenly asked.

Tom lifted his head. “I know you tricked me into this but I also know that you really need me.”

“I really really need you. I can’t tell you how grateful I am you happened to be the one the centre chose to take care of me.”

“Me neither,” Tom said and kissed Bill lovingly. “Bill...” he said.

Bill focused on his eyes. “What?”

“I do like you that way... but I’ve always been with girls so...”

“Maybe you’re bi and just didn’t realise it until you found me?”

Tom snorted at Bill’s cocky confidence in his own sexual value. “Possibly. But I don’t really do labels, you know?”

“Fine,” Bill said and smiled. “Just... don't string me on, Tom. I don’t think I could take it if you broke up with me.”

Tom pulled him close. “Break up? You don’t know when you fall in love. You just do it whether it’s convenient or not.” Bill was so sweet in his conception of falling in love. Tom hugged Bill gently in his arms and the singer moaned with pleasure.

“Tom Tom Tom,” he chanted softly. “I’m so hot for you.”

“Mmmm,” Tom smirked into Bill’s neck. “I figured it wasn’t a microphone in your pocket.”

Bill giggled. “My microphone, by the way, kicks arse.”

“How?” Tom asked.

“It’s shaped like a dick, but camouflaged in glitter and rhinestones.” Bill winked letting Tom know he was just kidding.

“You sing into a dildo?”

Bill swatted him. “Hairbrushes never did it for me in my mirror posing youth.”

“But you started early?”

“With dildos?” Bill lifted a pierced eyebrow.

“No... you did?”

“Tom!” Bill swatted him again.

“No with hairbrushes. Singing?”

Bill shook his head and fluttered a hand a little agitatedly. “You changed the subject!”

“You started talking about kick arse microphones...”

Bill cocked his head and looked at Tom with eyes shining with brilliance.

“Don’t worry about a fucking thing, Bill. I won’t be the one breaking up with you.”

Bill swallowed but his eyes didn’t lose their lustre. “All right. Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Yeah, all right,” Tom said with a smirk. “But only because you’re not paying me for it.”

“Okay. I won’t give you a fucking cent.”

Tom smiled. “I might lose the flat, though - now that I’m completely unemployed.”

“Tom,” Bill said. “I’ll share the living costs with you. When you get another job, I’ll live like a princess again.”

Tom grinned. “I _had_ a job, Bill. Like two days ago? Remember?”

“I’ve conveniently forgotten. Why don’t you play for me?”

“What? You just said you wanted to have sex!”

Bill pulled away, and whispered, “I’m not having sex with you, Tom. No dick in hole for me.”

Tom gaped stupidly. “Um... oh... okay.”

“And I didn’t specifically say I wanted sex with you.”

“You’re hard... and so am I.”

“Tom, I’m sure you figured, but... I,” Bill said, biting his lip.

Tom looked at him, read his body language, and tried to cut his own horny investment out of the equation. “You’re a virgin,” he suddenly concluded. Bill’s eyes grew huge, and Tom nodded. “So Kasper what’s-his-name just regularly bullied you to try and have sex with him?” he suggested.

Bill looked away and his sudden radiance was gone just like that. “I’m very tired now, and...” Bill said, and Tom didn’t comment but pulled away from him.

When Bill had gotten himself comfortable, he closed his eyes and pulled the blanket under his chin, eyes round and his brain clearly driving past speed limit. “Get back in bed with me, Tom,” Bill asked quietly. Tom hesitated a moment but did as Bill asked. That was what he wanted, too, and, seconds later, he was out of his clothes and spooned Bill.

“Are you any good?” Bill asked, picking up from where the conversation turned awkward. “On your guitar?”

“I’ve played since I was a kid. Fairly... Above average, I’m told.”

“Hm...” Bill said and pushed his backside firmer into Tom’s crotch. “Wanna jerk me off?”

Tom kissed Bill’s nape and whispered back, “I wanna listen to you doing it yourself.” Bill’s tiny shriek made Tom smile. “Okay – maybe another day.”

“You need to get off, Tom?”

“Don’t worry about it, so enjoy my hard on as long as it lasts.”

Bill giggled softly, “You’d probably want me to do it to you like you’ve done to me a few times?”

“It was pretty good in the shower, and as I see it, compassion is the essence of a spiritual life.”

“Sounds great, Tom. Did you just make that up?”

“No. Dalai Lama did.”

“You have a collection of his haiku crap ready just like that?”

“He tweets every day.”

Bill scratched his head. “Okay...”

“It’s not crap by the way.”

“When you re-tweet it verbally, it is, Tom.”

“Shouldn’t you rest your voice and stay quiet?”

“No. That was your idea,” Bill said, his voice breaking in that moment.

Tom laughed softly and kissed Bill’s hair.

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The days seemed to go by in a nice tempo. If Bill decided he could walk or lift his hands normally, it was purely due to what mood he was in, and his mood changed toward the better. His depression showed its ugly head lesser because the young man was getting increasingly happier living with Tom. Tom handled fewer things, too, and Bill went to the toilet by himself. However, Tom still had the pleasure of bathing him. While performing this pleasurable task, they could jerk each other off and noisily make out at the same time.

Tom wasn’t sure if they’d take any step further than that for a very long time. That was fine. He had the sweetest boyfriend to warm his bed at night and make his days entertaining, very varied, and fun. Bill endorsed quite a lot of money into their relationship and home. Basically, he paid for everything looking remotely like bills, and Tom paid for all the foodstuff. Bill sold his house and all his stuff was now being acquainted with Tom’s and, what there hadn’t been any need for, they sold. Bill’s knick-knacks were everywhere and Tom loved how they mingled with his stuff. It was his job to clean up after Bill of course. Bill didn’t even see the mess he created until Tom pointed them out for him, and eventually, it was easier for Tom to simply pick things up. In that area, Bill had no clue how to structure his life.

Bill had made Tom play his guitar for him and Bill had hummed along to his best ability. 

“You’re better than you give yourself credit for,” Bill had said to Tom one afternoon. Tom shrugged and tried to make sense of a song Bill had been inspired to write. He was good with lyrics and Tom liked strumming riffs and other small music bits he made up. Bill nodded and smiled. “You are.”

“If you say so,” Tom said.

“I just said so, Tom.” Bill pondered for a few moments. “Have you ever heard any of our songs?” he asked.

Tom looked blankly at him. 

“You didn’t seem to really know the band... to me, you didn’t seem to know the band, me, and obviously not the songs, either.”

“What? When we met?”

“Yeah, Tom. When we met,” Bill clarified.

“I couldn’t name the title of a single one of your songs even if my life depended on it. Sorry. I’m more into rap. Or I used to. I’m not sure what I like at the moment.”

“That’s because I’m influencing you with my proper music.”

Tom nodded and smiled ironically at him, strumming more chords. “That’s it. You really got it,” he mocked Bill, but the brunet didn’t hear him. “You really should get yourself a hearing aid,” he said loudly.

“Mmhm... okay,” Bill chattered, folding his long legs under him.

“Excuse me?”

“Why?” Bill turned his head and stared at him. “I probably _should_ get a hearing aid.”

Tom reached out and put an arm around Bill. “If you did, you’d be shocked by how everything sounds.”

“Will I?” Bill asked, rubbing his nose disinterested with his thumb.

“Small things like... what crinkling paper sounds like. The coffee machine percolating. Me, moaning in the shower...” he looked expectantly at Bill, but Bill just smiled. “...or hearing the fucking punch line!” Tom concluded and laughed.

“I heard you,” Bill said and smiled at him. “Did you ever want to be a professional musician?” he asked moments later.

“No. I wanted to be a graphics designer.”

“Oh. Right. Like what would you do if you were?”

“Design covers actually.”

Bill smiled and nodded. “That’s really cool.”

“Not CD covers, Bill. LP covers.”

“But they don’t...”

“They still exist. Up to date albums are printed for select LP buyers and DJs need them. You might even find your own CDs in LP versions.”

“Even so, you can’t just say you want to design LP covers and expect the likes of U2 or Coldplay showing up and asking for your talent,” Bill whispered hoarsely and coughed.

“I was - I still am! – pretty good at what I do. There just weren’t any jobs in that sector when I graduated.”

“Hm... so you’re not just talented but also smarter than I credit you for then,” Bill whispered.

Tom cocked his head. “Har har har.”

Bill fluffed his hair. “Where were we?”

Tom began to sing the phrase they worked on and Bill looked at him strangely. “What?”

“You sing?”

“I just did.”

“You sing well. I wasn’t...” Bill stopped talking and looked confused at him. “You could sing my songs for me.”

Tom licked his lips. “Honestly?”

“I can’t sing, Tom,” Bill shrugged.

“Try and whisper the song and I’ll strum really softly. It really should be you singing. Not me.”

“Wait. I want to record this on my lap. I have a mike that goes with it.”

“Bill...” Tom said, worriedly, but Bill was already walking to his room as briskly as he could. Tom put the guitar down and went to watch Bill rummage eagerly through his suitcases. All his clothes were now hanging on hangers on clothes racks dominating the entire room, but that was okay. His room was basically just for his clothes. By now, only a few of Bill’s suitcases even contained any of his stuff - like a computer microphone.

“Found it. Man, this is going to be so cool,” Bill’s tiny voice squeaked. So used to hearing it, Tom noticed that there were no shards in Bill’s vocal enthusiasm about what was going to happen even if the young singer most likely wouldn’t be able to sing the song other than in whispers.

“Okay,” Bill was back to whispering after the joyous find and instantly began to set up his lap for recording the song. He did a few tests to check the volume and then he kneeled down next to the sofa and beckoned Tom closer. “This is just a test with you in the background and me here.”

“Okay,” Tom smiled. Bill’s eyes were bright and happy. “Okay. Here we go. Play, Tom.”

Tom obediently strummed softly as promised and Bill whispered the text. When the song ended, Tom let the note linger as he studied Bill’s face closely. 

“Crap...” Bill said blankly. “That sounded like utter crap.” He coughed and tried to clear his throat.

Tom took Bill’s hand and asked him to sit next to him. Bill did and let Tom search his face. “You sounded great, Bill,” he said.

Bill’s forehead frowned and he looked taken aback with astonishment. “Excuse me?”

“I think you sounded really good. I honestly thought it would be hoarse and croaked and everything in between. But the whisper was so sensual. I really really liked it.” Tom might not know what he was talking about, but he’d been so touched when Bill fought his way to complete the song. And, feeling the way he did for Bill Kaulitz, to him, it had been one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard.

Bill looked away. “You were good, too.”

“Can you replay that?”

“You were good, too, Tom,” Bill said louder.

Tom laughed softly. “Thanks for the double compliment, but I meant the recording.”

“Silly me,” Bill said, and he looked like he had a lump in his throat. “Just a sec. I’m saving it first.” He sat down on the floor once more and faced the computer.

“Please, yeah,” Tom said, and slid down the floorboard to sit next to Bill who fiddled with the program saving their song.

Sighing nervously, Bill set the song to replay. Tom was surprised by how good the quality of the recording in fact was. Like a demo. The song was perhaps even better now that Bill’s voice was in the foreground and not in the background while the guitar was too close to Tom’s ears during the recording. Closing his eyes, he let Bill’s sweet vocals consume him and he was caught up in the same intimate feeling once more.

When the song was over, he opened his eyes again and looked at Bill who had been looking at Tom throughout the entire song. 

“Still like it?” Bill asked, and Tom knew when his darling was fishing for compliments. 

“I think it’s better the second time,” Tom said and Bill couldn’t hide the pride that welled up inside him. “I mean that guitarist. He’s really flashy with them chords...” Tom teased him and Bill grinned. 

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Burn a CD and we’ll send it in to Universal and see if they can recognise you. We’ll do it in my name, and make up a group they have to discover,” Tom joked, as he shook his head in mirth. When Bill wasn’t laughing with him, he quickly darted a look to check why.

Bill’s eyes were squinted hard. “Really?”

Tom stopped laughing and seriously he nodded. “Yes. You were fired because of your voice. This is revenge, Bill.”

“I don’t want reven...”

“Oh, you do want revenge,” Tom interrupted. “Trust me. You have no idea how good you’ll feel if you do this and they want to produce the song.” _You need successes like these._

“And what shall we call ourselves?”

“Uh...uhm... Devilish!” Tom said on the top of his head. Bill was not impressed.

“Riiight. How about not? That is uncool even for a rapper!”

“Okay. Might need a little more work on that. What do I know about show business anyway?”

“Nothing. But you can design our CD,” Bill suggested. His eyes were glowing with ambition and fire.

“Cool and you can sew our stage outfits...” Tom threw back at him. Bill just stared at him a few seconds and then they cracked up with laughter.

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slap you!” Bill threatened, looking livid as well as incredulous. “I was trying to tell you something. I don’t know what happened!”

“I don’t know what happened, either. My brains took matters out of my hands. I’m so sorry, Bill,” Tom apologised. He was unbelievably embarrassed.

“If you wanted me to change the subject you should have said so,” Bill whispered.

“I did but... the way I wanted it was in the way. I...” Tom looked a little helpless at Bill, and blurted, “I do want to have sex with you. And I want to penetrate your body. I don’t care how others do it. I like it the traditional way. It feels fucking good.”

Bill just breathed in and out. He didn’t look upset, although he did look like he was waiting for Tom to continue.

“I’ve been attracted to you from the moment I saw you. I thought you were the most gorgeous person I’d ever seen, and I had to tell myself not to feel it. You were a client. It’s just not allowed. But in not responding to you, there’s only so much a guy can do when the person in front of him is so hot...” Tom stopped. He was even more embarrassed now.

“I’ve seen your penis, Tom. And you want to shove that thing inside me?” Bill asked quietly, and the words threw Tom off completely.

“I was going to use an alternative expression...” he finally said.

“Like what?”

“Making love...” Tom answered.

“When you say it, it sounds like I might like it. How can I be sure?”

“Because it wasn’t invented yesterday, Bill!” Tom explained exasperatedly. “The entire population on the planet does it. It’s been safety proven aplenty since the last five million years, and everyone agrees that it’s a great feeling to be with your partner and...”

“But you’ve never been with a boy, Tom. You’re clueless. I’m clueless. That is just not good enough for our first.”

“Huh?!” Tom asked, his hands were shaking. “How do you expect us to handle that? Be with other partners who have? Gees, Bill. I don’t want that. You confuse things. I get really confused by you sometimes.”

Bill narrowed his eyes. “Well, isn’t it grand? Finally, you’re losing it. It gets pretty tiring always being the one who can’t function for shit!” Bill growled to his best ability. “You’re so fucking stoic.”

Tom swallowed and he felt an uneasiness creeping in on him. “What... what are you saying, Bill? Are you tired of me? I didn’t...”

“I fucking love you, you fool,” Bill practically yelled.

Tom’s body jerked in shock as if Bill had kicked his solar plexus. He’d thought Bill was building up to tell him he was leaving him for sure. But then, Bill put his hands on Tom’s cheeks, albeit he couldn’t look Bill in the eye.

“I’ve treated you like shit, Tom. I’ve been whiny, demanding, bitchy, and a diva. The worst. A bit of virgin blood is hardly enough to repay your kindness.”

“So you’ll give me your virginity?” Tom asked, testing waters as he looked up through his eyelashes.

Bill smiled. “I’m afraid that is too late.”

Tom’s eyebrows arched in stunned surprise. “Oh... what do you mean?”

“I’m straight, Tom.”

Tom looked at him waiting for the punch line.

“And you’re straight, too,” Bill said and smiled sweetly.

Tom still waited, and Bill smiled brighter. “We’re two straight guys trying to negotiate having gay sex. It’s funny, Tom!”

“You lost me, Bill,” Tom said and looked away. Bill had still had some kind of thing with Lieberkind even if Bill hadn’t wanted it.

“Tom... you turn me on so much it hurts my stomach just to look at you, but I’m fucking terrified to have sex with you.”

“Because you think I expect you to bottom?”

Bill cocked a pierced eyebrow, “Would you bottom?”

“Never,” Tom replied.

“See? That’s why you’re so keen on it and why I’m more than hesitant.”

Tom nodded. “Okay. That’s okay. But say you weren’t terrified, would you go for it?”

“I don’t know, Tom. It’s not a question about the pain. It’s more...” Bill looked away and then worried his lower lip with his teeth. “I want to...”

“You want to be on top?”

“No. I don’t care about that. Fuck, I don’t know. I’ve never thought about the mechanics. I’ve never been attracted to a guy before.”

“We’ve been close in the shower. We’re close in bed.”

“Yeah.” Bill nodded and Tom nodded, too. He knew it was selfish to expect Bill to bottom, but it was either that or they didn’t have penetrating sex. He’d have to live with that and, of course, it was possible.

“But I suppose we could initiate whatever and explore and add stuff along the way? Maybe I’ll change my mind.”

 _And bottom?_ Tom asked in his mind. Bill looked intensely at him and Tom understood that Bill probably would give in. He just didn’t want to admit it out loud.

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Since they were already naked, they crawled into the bed and Bill lay down in the middle with closed eyes.

“You have the best bed I’ve ever slept in. It’s ironic since I’ve slept in some pretty cool hotels, my own at home included. But this is a real bed that belongs to people.”

“It’s amazing to have sex in,” Tom said, as he lay close to Bill. His hand wandered up and down the long plane of Bill’s side. Bill tilted his head fractionally and met Tom’s lips in a kiss.

“You realise you haven’t been with a girl since we met?” Bill asked him.

“Yeah. I kind of chose not to even before you, Bill. Since I met you, you’ve literally been the only one on my mind,” Tom said in between kisses.

“You’re the only one that’s been on my mind, too. You made me forget what I was so angry about. You filled the void in me, and I love you for it,” Bill said.

“Cheesy,” Tom teased, but he returned the sentiment. “You’re really making my day brighter, too. You made me quit my job!” he chuckled.

“Of course!” Bill purred. “No way was I going to let go of you. I wanted you in my life so badly.”

Tom smiled. “How able were you? Tell me the truth because I had my doubts a few times.”

Bill frowned a little. “I was drained, Tom. I couldn’t move for a while and was still not capable when I wanted to leave the hospital. But you gave me the energy nobody else seemed to be able to. It wasn’t just physical. It was very psychological, too. Maybe even more. I was so scared you wouldn’t believe me. I had hit the bottom and you were the only light out of it.”

“Oh, man,” Tom said and stroked Bill’s cheek with a knuckle. “This could be a great song,” he suddenly cracked, referring to the laden exchange of words that had passed between them just now. 

Bill laughed, too. “Yeah. Those lyrics are serious stuff.” But they knew it wasn’t necessary to write them down. Those words were for them only.

“I’m probably not good at sucking cock, Bill,” Tom murmured as his lips travelled along Bill’s neck.

“Me neither, but we both like having it done to us, right?”

“We’re guys. Of course we do,” Tom responded and licked a blue vein under Bill’s chin. “We should be experts, though, because we know what feels good.”

“I haven’t had many blow jobs, Tom.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

“In total... or with two girls?”

“In total.”

“Wow... But you’re famous and everything?” Tom didn’t understand how he hadn’t had it done like hundreds of times. There must be plenty of girls willing to do it for him.

Bill shrugged. “I didn’t feel comfortable having a total stranger doing it. I’m not for casual encounters at all. I’m extremely romantic and was going to wait for true love until I retired from being a teeny star. You just can’t be in a relationship and be a sought after celebrity, too. We travelled too much and I’d been doing it for too long to squeeze in a relationship. It wasn’t possible in my world.”

“So...” Tom urged him to continue.

“Finally, I decided to sleep with someone. She didn’t seem so star struck and wasn’t even my type, but she was pretty good.” Bill smiled at the memory. “She blew me twice that night and I tried to pleasure her, but I was so clumsy and it was embarrassing. She wasn’t embarrassed at all and actually got herself off on top of me.”

“You...” Tom began, but Bill shut him up with a kiss.

“Gees, you’re turned on by this!” Bill laughed. Tom was hard now and he encountered Bill’s equal erection, as he slid against him in little eager thrusts.

“Not because of her. Because of you. I’m actually putting myself in her place in my head,” Tom confessed.

Bill looked pleased and he continued, “She was just on top of me. I wasn’t inside that one. I had sex with a girl later on the tour and she didn’t blow me. I certainly didn’t blow her, either. She thought she was Bill Kaulitz’ first one, which she was, but I didn’t feel like telling her and told her I’d had plenty.” Bill rolled his eyes. “That evidently disappointed her, and so she informed me that I was a lousy lay.” Then he laughed. “And that was actually quite funny, because I had zero experience so of course I was lousy. But she wasn’t any better herself if she expected me to pull tricks out of my bag and dazzle her. I only had my dick in my bag and obviously it wasn’t good enough.”

Tom laughed loudly until he realised something was different. “Your voice Bill. It’s become warmer and more vocal.”

Bill cleared his throat and looked at Tom with puzzlement. “It is.” His voice had more sound. “Wonder if arousal does that to it?”

“Nice challenge for us then,” Tom said, and went back to kissing him a few moments. “I lost my virginity at fifteen. I was with a girl from my class. After that, I had a handful of partners until I only slept with my girlfriends. I had three before you.”

“Enough of girls,” Bill said, “We talk too much and less action.”

“I have some condoms somewhere...” Tom said and sat up on his hinges, ready to go find them.

“Don’t want that,” Bill said quickly.

“But...”

“No rubbers.”

“Bill, I used protection every time, and have been tested negative occasionally, but...”

“Trust me. I’m squeakily clean.”

Tom sucked his lip ring looking worried. “We really should...”

“No,” Bill said and shook his head.

“Could you at least give me a reason? It’s my safety, too, since...”

“I’m allergic to latex, okay?” Bill said.

“Excuse me?” Tom asked.

“I’m a fucking virgin because I’m allergic to latex,” he clarified slowly to make sure Tom understood the implications fully.

Tom guffawed quietly and then he smirked widely. “So the romantic bull is actually bull?”

“Yeah, ha ha ha,” Bill said and rolled to his side to face Tom. “I can’t touch condoms. But it sounds nicer to say I’m saving myself for the one. I have no fucking alternative.”

“And the girl?”

“My face was swollen out of proportions an hour after she left. It didn’t wear off until 48 hours later, and I was fucking embarrassed and didn’t want to tell anyone why I was having an allergic reaction at the ER.”

“And...”

“I took a stupid chance, but I was horny, drunk, and she was willing.”

“And the lay was lousy,” Tom grinned amicably, just to repeat the punch line.

Bill smiled a little. “Yeah. Some price I paid.” Sighing heavily, Bill returned to lying on his back. “Are we _ever_ gonna have sex?”

“Well, your arguments were convincing,” Tom said and smothered himself all over Bill. Bill spread his legs readily and Tom kissed his lips. “Want to do this?”

“I want to do this. Is there anything about me that does not turn you on, Tom?” he quickly asked.

“Like what?” 

“Like my dick. My sex...”

“No. I think you have all the equipment I need.” Why none of them was really into guys didn’t matter. That they were in this bed together was the only thing that mattered, because they were obviously into each other.

Bill swallowed and Tom felt it. Looking up from the love bites he was arranging on Bill’s neck, he saw Bill looked relieved. “Was that it?”

Bill shrugged. “Maybe. And, for the record, you have the all equipment I need, too.”

“Bill...” Tom discovered new insecurities from Bill all the time and imagined it would never end. Well, he was good at making Bill certain they were ungrounded. “You’re so gorgeous that there is no gender ready to match you. You’re a specie all on your own and, luckily for me, it only works with Trümper boys.” Tom looked approvingly at the wanton display of Bill’s long legs spread out under him.

Bill giggled and the rich sound was truly beautiful. Tom’s heart just swelled to match his cock. Maybe Bill’s voice wasn’t really gone. Maybe he’d just needed Tom’s love to make sure he didn’t have to use silence as a weapon; to control his sudden uncertain future after the accident. All of Bill’s symptoms descended from the traumatic experience of the accident, so why not his sudden lack of voice? He’d had his vocal chords operated, and so the result should have been the opposite. However, his world was not bleak anymore. Everything had brightened instead. 

Tom shook his head of the big words and discoveries. He had to shut up his mind. Yes, they talked entirely too much and their thoughts blocked their concentration. Tom tried only letting sensations guide him now. 

Bill’s voice moaned aloud, as Tom’s lips and tongue licked and sucked down his breastbone, his smile grew broad. Bill’s hip cocked a bit under his writhing, and Tom’s arousal was fuelled. Bill’s cock twitched under him and he reached for it with his hand. He’d held it so many times by now and he liked the familiar sensation. “I like your dick. It feels good in my hand, Bill. Did from the first day.”

“You dog,” Bill murmured. “I was so hard that morning. Had a nice dream when you woke me up and the nice feeling became a horrible pain. I was so embarrassed by it, but you helped me more than you’ll ever know by being so professional.” Bill nodded seriously to make his point. Cocking his head, he grinned. “But I have to be honest with you. When you suddenly grabbed my cock to wank me on the toilet, I got turned on. I thought I reacted that way because it had been so long since I last got off. At the same time, I was at ease with your actions, I just had no idea how to process that. I’ve never had the luxury to surround myself with many people outside the band, handlers, bodyguards, management, you get the picture – that I was comfortable with, and you established my inner comfort just like that. I had to make you come back, Tom. To my utmost shock, I wanted you in my life so freaking much.”

Tom smiled. “It’s great to know all this because I hoped you were comfortable with me. As the day grew older, I soon figured out that you were.” He smiled broadly. “So I basically made you bi?” He winked, and Bill laughed. “Fuck, I love your voice. It’s so warm and annoyingly deeper than mine,” he admired. Bill’s breath went up a little notch.

“Well, like I said, you’ve done what nobody else could. Where were you all these months?” Bill asked.

Tom smiled and kissed him hard on the mouth. Bill’s arms went around him, fingers wound around felted ropes of dreads, and they held on to each other for a few moments. “No more sap,” Tom said and coughed to clear his voice. Bill just giggled and wriggled.

“Doing something with that hand? Or should I hire you as my escort? Then you’d have to do it or you’d go home hungry... in _every_ way.”

Tom laughed. He loved Bill’s dry sarcasm. The musk they could smell on each other was a little heady. Tom was turned on by that, and he was curious what Bill’s arousal would taste like. Holding his palm tightly around Bill’s erection, he commented, “You’re wet for me.” Wet was not even enough to describe how Bill was dripping precum and Tom smeared the wet substance that kept coming up and down the rigid shaft. The slickness was doing intense things to his libido, and finally, Tom slipped down Bill’s body. Moving into place between the singer’s thighs, he looked up at his lover who returned his gaze with intense concentration. His bunny teeth were secured behind tight lips as he sucked them inside his mouth. Their eyes were still locked as Tom gently bent Bill’s cock toward him and, excitedly, the flesh throbbed in his hands. Bill’s pulse felt incredible and told Tom how much Bill wanted what he was about to do to him. Pulling down the foreskin, Tom stuck out his tongue and put it on the glans. Rolling the skin back down, he darted the tip of his tongue around the edge of the foreskin and Bill’s toes curled. Bill’s precome was salty and nothing out of the ordinary. The taste of his skin and sexual scent, however, Tom liked. 

“Shit...” Bill gasped in immediate response. Tom looked at him and saw Bill licking his lips in quick motions. Bill’s eyes were now closed and Tom squeezed gently at the base of his cock and continued tonguing the foreskin. Slowly, he swallowed the tip and sucked while listening to Bill’s laboured breathing, telling him how good it felt and Tom liked that immensely. Bill was once more looking at Tom’s ministrations keenly. He was extremely sensitive, and Tom had to remember that he’d only had two blowjobs and, whichever hands had been on him, had been clinical until Tom came along and set this hot dick on fire. Smirking, Tom thought that was appropriate. Working the skin back and forth, he began to kiss the glans with demonstrative eager slurps and Bill moaned and reflexively thrust his hips, pushing his cock forward into Tom’s mouth. Tom let him. It was difficult not to, but he never did it himself unless the girl he was with didn’t mind. Tom could tell that Bill was inhibited by this, and, as long as he held his hand at the base, Bill could thrust all he wanted. Tom sank his mouth over him and bobbed down as far as his fist. Occasionally, he’d tickle or lick Bill’s balls as hard as he’d feel comfortable himself. Every time he did that, Bill got the chills and erupted with goose bumps all over his tight skin. It was an incredibly easy factor for Tom to figure out how to please Bill when his lover was vocal about every new addition.

As on cue, Bill gasped out in loud series of moans, his thrusts became erratic, and Tom stopped bobbing his head and just let Bill do the thrusts. Their eyes were hot for each other, and Tom could tell that the eye contact turned on Bill violently. Tom knew he was the same way. He sucked hard and Bill cried out as the mouth he thrust into became that much tighter. Pulling off, Tom lifted his head to watch Bill, and he jerked him off ruthlessly. Bill’s long spine arched in jerky spasms and, with a hoarse shout, he shot his load all over his stomach with several drops hitting Tom’s face. Then he slumped back down, disrupting the waterbed slightly.

“Mhm...” Bill hummed and closed his eyes. “Up here...” he then commanded, and Tom eyed the wetness pooling on his body, but then shrugged. Better now than a moment later when it was getting cold. The wetness greeting his groin immediately sent dirty thoughts to his brain. He rubbed his hard cock in Bill’s semen and the indicative noises made them grin.

“Good?” he had to ask. 

“It was so good, Tom. It was infinitely the best I’ve had... which doesn’t cover much, I know.” Disinterested in his previous sex life, Bill merely gyrated his wrist as a way of explaining, but Tom knew what he meant. “Your mouth...” Bill moaned and kissed him hotly. “So warm and soft... It was really good. You must be a natural since this was your first blow job.” He nuzzled Tom’s neck with a kitten like gratitude on the verge of purring.

“What are we going to do with all this mess?” Tom asked, hinting at Bill’s release. Bill stopped purring and they looked at each other.

“I suppose you could use it to lubricate me?” Bill smiled at the stupid look on Tom’s face.

“I... suppose... I _could,_ ” Tom agreed, once he found his voice. Bill had made up his mind. Tom would be allowed to enter him and the prospect of that sent thrills through his eager body. Creating a bit of distance, Tom stuck his fingers in the goo of cum and travelled further down. Keeping an eye on Bill, he found the small opening underneath Bill’s tight balls. The tiny hole puckered nervously in spite of Bill’s obvious interest in their next endeavour.

“Zzzz...” Bill hissed reflexively. Tom rubbed and caressed his opening and ignored the natural clenching. Putting his tongue on one of Bill’s nipples, he began to lick languidly at the little pebble. Bill sighed in between his nervous hisses and twitchy jerks. Opening his mouth, Tom let its heat consume the receptive bud as it hardened further under his attention. With a small sigh, Bill spread his thighs further, and Tom smiled giving the nipple a hard suction.

“Oh, God, Tom,” Bill whined and moaned. “I can feel it in my fucking nuts.”

Tom flicked his tongue hard across the nipple and Bill’s hole clenched around Tom’s finger as the brunet’s entire groin contracted. Letting go of the rosy flesh between his lips, Tom blew cool air across it and Bill cried out softly, lolling his head to either side. Tom let the tip of his finger slide into Bill. Bill stopped lolling and watched with renewed interest instead. Tom pressed some more and Bill licked his upper lip, still watching Tom’s hand and finger concentratedly.

“What does it feel like?” Tom wanted to know.

“Hmmm...” Bill hummed and arched his pierced eyebrow. “It feels like a finger in my arse.”

“Good answer,” Tom chuckled.

“Like when you’re having your temperature taken,” Bill elaborated.

“My mum used an ear thermometer,” Tom said smugly.

Bill narrowed his eyes. “My mother didn’t,” he said.

“And still all that poking didn’t make you grow up to become gay,” Tom joked.

Bill laughed and then he quieted down when Tom eased his finger out to get more precum. Then he worked on persuading Bill to accommodate two fingers. Bill sighed, closed his eyes, and relaxed, as if he was in touch with what the feeling was by now and what to expect. Before he knew it, Tom had a second finger inside him.

“I wonder if it’s enough,” he said, conversationally.

“It’s not,” Bill answered for him.

“Okay.” Tom removed his fingers and used the last mix of precum and semen to get a third finger inside Bill. “Here we go.” He didn’t have to work so hard for the third finger, either; the slick digits slid easily in and out of Bill. “We’re out of stuff,” he said. His own cock leaked somewhat but not enough.

“Let’s try in the hope that what’s down there already is enough,” Bill suggested.

Tom nodded. “Adding a bit of spit could probably not hurt.”

“Probably not. Hurry, Tom. My thighs are getting tired from this.”

“Do you want to top, maybe?” Tom suggested, meaning the position.

“And bounce?” Bill asked frowning. “I don’t think so.”

“Just to sit and get us connected. You can rest your legs.”

Bill nodded then. “Fine. Let’s try that.”

As soon as they’d switched places, Bill sat across Tom’s groin. Together they gathered saliva and anointed Tom’s cock; a task they both enjoyed with eager smiles. Tom let his hands run up Bill’s sides with a sigh of contentment, cataloguing his tiny waist, long small ribcage, and the tiniest set of shoulders he’d ever seen on a man. His hands fell to rest on Bill’s hips, then wandered around and grabbed his arse and pulled suggestively.

“You want in?” Bill asked, cocking his head and rolling his hips.

“You want me in?” Tom replied. This was a big deal. This was _it_ , and Bill had agreed. Relaxing, Tom leaned back in a good angle from Bill. All he had to do was get in there and start thrusting. All Bill had to do was hold on for the ride. 

“Yes. I want you in,” Bill replied.

Bill got up on his knees so Tom pulled forth his cock, and teased himself jacking the hard flesh. Moaning, he looked forward to this. Bill watched him with nothing but anticipation, too. Aiming at his target, Tom started pushing against Bill’s entrance. Leaning forward, Bill put a hand on Tom’s shoulder as he lowered fractionally to aid Tom’s penetration. Hissing softly, he suddenly raised the other hand, silently telling Tom they had to slow down.

Holding his breath, Tom waited and watched him with scrutinising attention. Gods, he was beautiful in that moment, as he handled the discomfort Tom was causing him. Several moments passed by and then Bill’s face seemed more relaxed. Tom pushed inside. 

“Huuhhh,” Bill croaked and breathed labouredly. “Fuuuuck,” he moaned with a deep frown, and put both hands on Tom’s shoulders.

“Does it hurt?” Tom asked not moving a muscle.

“I don’t know,” Bill whispered. “I don’t think so. Maybe. I don’t know. Just sort of burns. It’ll get better.”

Tom moved his hands up to Bill’s waist. The feeling around his cock was unbelievable. He closed his eyes and just lay still, sensing the pulse in his cock in Bill’s channel. “You feel fantastic,” he finally said with a shaky voice. It was more than fantastic - in was fucking incredible.

“So do you,” Bill responded. Tom opened his eyes, and found Bill’s gaze intent on his. They smiled to each other.

Tom began to thrust into him gently. It went so smoothly, and Bill moaned softly already. Tom watched his gorgeous face contort with serene pleasure, and he was in that place, too. 

“You’re beautiful,” Tom told him.

“It is,” Bill agreed. Then he smiled and leaned down to kiss Tom briefly before he returned to his previous position and closed his eyes. Tom closed his eyes, too, and concentrated on just feeling the glide into Bill, the feeling of his cock entering and leaving the tightness of his body. Soon Bill began to move effortlessly with him. Since Tom was doing most of the work, it wasn’t so strenuous for Bill. Tom smiled as the singer’s moans continued, turned a little raspy and sexy, and Tom’s cock hardened even more taking him that bit closer toward orgasm.

“Huuuuh,” Bill sighed. “I feel that. You feel...” he moaned and shuddered. Tom sat up straighter, gyrating his hips for a while instead of thrusting. Holding Bill in his arms, he moved into the middle of the bed. Bill looked curiously at him and grinned. “What are you doing, cave man?” he asked as he was manoeuvred about.

“Wrap around me,” Tom grinned, and Bill complied right away crossing his legs behind Tom. They sat for a few moments and then Bill giggled.

“What are we doing?” he asked again. “It went okay. Can we continue?” Bill’s arm held Tom tighter around his neck; a hand was grabbing his dreads possessively.

Tom smiled and kissed him. “Yeah. I just got tired faster than expected. We need a different position.”

“Oh, okay,” Bill replied. His face was radiating with arousal. 

Still fitted snugly inside Bill, Tom lowered his lover on the bed, and Bill tightened his legs around Tom’s waist once more. Tom moved as close to him as possible, practically seating the younger man in his lap, as their bodies curled around one another. Lifting his neck, Bill silently asked for Tom’s lips and delightedly they sucked on lip and tongue rings as they continued making love.

“Oh God,” Bill moaned warmly in between the sloppy kisses. Tom answered with moans of his own, thinking that neither him nor Bill were as vocal as he thought they could have been. Bill didn’t moan his head off like a porn star. This was too intimate and Tom’s heart filled with love. His hips sped up. He was closer now. 

“Close?” he gasped slightly.

“Been close since forever,” Bill replied raspily.

Tom slipped out of Bill’s tight grasp and, with a straight back, he added tempo pistonning into Bill; his skin hypersensitive when Bill’s hands touched him. Closing his eyes, his climax finally washed over him. Every sensation inside just exploded and he moaned freely. “Oooh, Bill,” he cried out, feeling the brunet’s hand pulling his neck down almost brutally and become rigid underneath him. Tom dick was surrounded by hypertension and it bordered on pain as his orgasm dragged out, and still, it felt so good being squeezed by Bill.

“Coming,” Bill cried out with a hoarse groan, as he arched and pressed his body toward Tom’s. Tom tried to articulate his own climax but all he could do was gasp as he gushed his seed inside his shuddering lover.

Collapsing on top of Bill, Tom grunted and cradled him in his arms.

“I’m _thrumming!_ ” Bill moaned from somewhere under Tom.

“That’s great. You’re high on endorphins,” Tom managed to chuckle, feeling every twitch his own body as he basked in the aftermath.

“I am?” Bill laughed.

“Yeah. It’s the best kind of rush,” Tom said.

“If sex gives you that, I love it. I’m so relaxed I’m melting like butter forgotten in the sun,” Bill purred and stretched his body.

“I’m addicted to something, too, for sure,” Tom whispered longingly and looked at Bill’s flushed and satisfied visage.

Bill caught his expression and kissed him gently. “I wish I was ready for round two, but my stamina is pathetic.”

Tom laughed softly. “I don’t think I could have but give me half an hour and...”

Bill laughed back. “In half an hour you won’t even be able to wake me up.”

“Well, now I have to test it, you know!” Tom dared him, but just one look at Bill’s face, and he could tell that his little darling was already droopy eyed. Tom smirked. That felt good to his own ego and, fetching a towel from the bathroom; he cleaned up himself and Bill, even as the younger man drifted off to sleep. 

They’d have to test their stamina some other time.

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	7. Chapter 7

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Waking up, Tom smiled with his eyes still closed as he turned and kissed Bill. Then he got out of bed, and went to the bathroom to relieve himself before he thought about breakfast. Walking back into the hall, he went to fetch the newspaper still protruding from the letter flap in the door. He only got it on weekends, because he’d become used to reading it at work for free. Pulling the paper free, a couple of letters fell down on the floor. Picking them up, he frowned at the bills. “Should have those signed up for home banking...” Tom procrastinated many things lately.

Tom was having too much fun living with Bill to care about every small detail in life. Bills were not a problem anymore as long as Bill gladly paid. Nevertheless, Tom should start looking for a job, soon. Bill was doing more than fine. His voice was coming back now that he didn’t feel threatened anymore. The key to the whole physiological spiel that took over Bill’s life derived from the shock upon shock the young man experienced, as his world crashed down after waking up in the hospital. He’d been kept artificially in a coma to recover from his injuries and, when people he’d trusted began to drop him, he’d stopped functioning all together; circumstances, which had made him fall into a deep depression that had simply not been detected by the hospital, whose staff had focused on his many physical limitations.

Smiling, Tom thought of Bill getting better. The singer had put a lot of energy into decorating his room. Where he used to keep his clothes in suitcases, they were now put a wall-to-wall closet. His stuff had arrived from where it had been stored and, together, the two of them had created a great home they both thrived living in. A third letter fell from under the bills Tom held, and Tom stopped to take a closer look. Then his eyes widened, and he dropped everything in his hands and jogged back to the bedroom holding the one letter tightly.

“Bill?” he asked and shook Bill’s shoulder urgently.

Bill moaned. “I’m sleeping, Tom!” he complained.

“We got a letter from Universal.”

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

Bill sat straight up in the chair. His hair looked mussed, and his eyes were owlishly wide as he desperately tried to force his brain to wake up. “I have to open it to read it,” he suddenly declared. Tom sat opposite him and nodded seriously. The envelope lay on the table pristine and innocent and still made the young men anxious about its contents.

“Yeah. That’s the trick to do it.”

“It’s addressed to you, Tom. You should open it.”

Tom licked his lips and reached out. Quickly, Bill snatched the letter, nevertheless, but then he dropped it back on the table with a shudder. “I can’t stand it! You do it.”

Tom grabbed the letter and resolutely ripped it open along the side. Then he pulled out a single A4 sheet of paper, unfolded it, and put it on the table for the both of them to read. Bill craned his neck to read it and Tom chuckled. He was so theatrical. “Want me to read it aloud?”

Bill shrugged. He’d gotten that damned hearing aid, but he didn’t always turn it on, and Tom signalled to him to do it. Bill pretended not seeing it. It was still one of the small things Tom found endearing as much as it was a nuisance. “Yeah. You do that.” However, his eyes were already running over the paragraphs.

_“To Herr Tom Trümper,_

_I’ve listened to your song “Im Rückblick” (In Retrospect) very thoroughly, and I’m interested in arranging a meeting with you to discuss your material._

_If you’re not the singer on this demo, would you kindly convey this information to your music partner as well._

_Best regards  
David Jost_

_Universal Music Entertainment GmbH  
Stralauer Allee 1   
10245 Berlin Deutschland   
phone: +49-30-52007-01  
david.jost@umusic.com _

 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tom blurted out. “ _If_ I’m not the singer?”

“It means that he’s on to us. To me. This is his subtle way of telling me that he knows it’s me.”

“How can he know?” Tom asked incredulously.

“He’s known my voice since I was twelve,” Bill said quietly.

“But you barely whispered!” Tom pointed out.

Bill shrugged. “Still my voice even if I whispered.”

Tom shook his head and got up. He fetched a cigarette, lit it, and sucked in smoke deeply. “Fuck. Was that the arse that dumped you?”

“No, that was not David.” Bill got up and went to touch Tom’s tense shoulders. “Tom... Just give him a call. He’s the good guy.”

“Why don’t you call him?” Tom suggested. It would be all about Bill anyway.

 _“Tom!”_ Bill said. Lifting an eyebrow, Tom looked at Bill. The singer looked back and they watched each other intensely a few moments.

Rolling his eyes, Bill nodded. “Fine.” Then he grabbed his phone and pressed speed dial. 

Tom snorted. “Speed dial?”

Bill saluted him with a finger and turned on his hearing aid, before he leaned against the table jutting out his backside. Tom cocked his head and took in his attractive posture before he focused on the conversation going on.

“David? It’s Bill. Yeah. Hi... Yeah it was me. No, no. That was Tom. He played the guitar. Yeah. So... You want to see us or...? No. Yes. Well, later... You thought so?” Bill smiled and put a lock of hair behind his ear. “It was pretty tough, but I got through it. Well...” Bill stopped and Tom saw he was listening intensely. Bill pulled at his t-shirt and his fingers were shaking. Bill was nervous as hell.

Suddenly, he thrust the phone in Tom’s hand. “He wants to talk to you.” Bill looked pointedly at him.

“I won’t tell him a fucking thing that isn’t his business, Bill,” Tom said to reassure him. Then he put the phone to his ear. “Tom Trümper.”

“Tom Trümper? Great. I’m David Jost. You sent me a demo.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Tom smirked. “I’m glad you took the time to listen to it.”

“I listened to the singer, Tom. Not the guitar, but you did okay.”

“You liked the singer?” Tom asked, unperturbed.

“Bill Kaulitz? Of course. I invented him. I would recognise his voice any time. So he got back his voice? That’s a blessing.”

“It sure is. He rehearsals every minute every day,” Tom replied dryly.

Jost laughed. “That’s good news. Is he okay? Does he want to come back to work.”

“He wants to work, yeah,” Tom said.

“Is he okay?”

“You’ll have to ask him that,” Tom said. 

“Who are you Tom?”

“Just a friend. I’m supporting him.”

“Just a friend?” David asked with a suggestive tone in his voice that suddenly made Tom feel angry, but he kept his anger out of his voice. “A friend who knows what Bill does every minute of the day?”

“Bill said he rehearsals every minute of the day. What exactly did you expect to hear?” Tom asked.

“Sorry. Bad habit of mine to look after him as Bill’s manager.”

“You’re his manager?” Tom asked and looked at Bill for confirmation. Bill was chewing on a nail and looked indecisively. “Bill doesn’t seem entirely sure of that. Universal dropped him unceremoniously.”

“Universal did, yeah. But I never dropped him as a client.”

“I’m pretty sure Bill wasn’t told he _wasn’t_ dropped by his management. He’s deaf, remember?” Bill’s eyes shot daggers Tom’s way. “Anyway. I’m Bill’s manager now.” Bill coughed as he scoffed loudly.

“You’re what?” Jost said almost with a shout.

“You heard me. You – his management - dropped Bill, when Universal cancelled his record deal and his association with Munich Motel - a band _Bill_ formed. It’s quite simple.” Tom felt Bill put his arms around him and, looking into Bills eyes, he saw love, admiration, and lust. “He was without friends and supporters. But I believe in him.”

“Look, Trümper,” Jost said. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but trust me. I never dropped Bill. Bill didn’t want to talk to me. He was extremely out of it when he realised he’d lost his voice and whatever complications trailed after that. Universal saw that as a liability, found a hole in the contract now that Bill couldn’t fulfil his obligations, and cut him loose to concentrate on the remaining band.”

“Are you managing them?” Tom wanted to know. He wasn’t letting Bill get involved in a conflict of interests here.

“No. I have nothing to do with the band now. Benjamin Ebel manages the band.”

“Ebel,” Tom repeated. Bill nodded.

“He and David managed us,” Bill said.

“Bad guy?” Tom asked taking the phone off his ear.

Bill shook his head. “Nah. Benjamin is okay.”

Tom put the phone back to his ear. “When can we drop by?”

“I’ll come to see you. I’m sure it will be easiest for Bill.”

Tom grinned. _Not anymore, but have it your way._ “Fine,” he said. “We’re always available.”

“How about today? I’m in Hamburg around 2pm.”

“Fine. Drop by.”

“Good. Bye then.” 

“Bye,” Tom said and disconnected.

“Well?” Bill asked and kissed Tom’s throat.

“He’ll come by around two. Then we’ll see.” Tom turned in his arms and they rocked a little back and forth hugging.

“Mind consulting me next time? Maybe I don’t want to talk to him,” Bill said.

Tom smirked. “A liar as well as a control freak.” Bill just grinned and kissed Tom on the lips.

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

Bill was a nerve wreck as the time neared two o’clock. Tom couldn’t distract him with conversation. He was strung up high enough right now as it were. 

“Help me Tom!” Bill cried from his room. Tom came to the door and smiled shaking his head. Bill’s hair was disastrous and his hands completely out of control as he tried to work a brush and blow-dryer at the same time.

“Man, I don’t have natural hairdressing skills like ‘some one I know’.”

“Tom!” Bill said testily.

Tom grinned. In fact, in his own opinion, he’d become quite good at doing Bill’s hair. Running the brush through the young man’s dark locks, Tom added some hairspray and blow-dried the strands as his fingers created spikes sporadically. Soon the hair stood in every thinkable direction.

“I look like a porcupine,” Bill complained after staring at his reflection a few moments.

“You look nice,” Tom said meaning it. Carefully, he refrained from mentioning that looking like a porcupine was Bill’s trademark hairstyle when he was active in the band.

Bill chuckled and shook his head. “No. I do not, but it’ll have to do.” Bill’s hands were literally shaking and Tom took them in his and just held them. They were ice cold. Bill took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m gonna die. This is exactly the way I felt before a concert.”

Tom pulled him into his arms and Bill stood still not embracing him back. Tom didn’t mind. Bill was too nervous to respond to anything. If Bill wanted to call everything off, all he had to do was say so and make the call. Tom was not going to suggest it. Nevertheless, Bill said nothing as he stood shaking in Tom’s arms.

“Do you need to sit down?”

Nodding wordlessly, Bill followed Tom when the dread head gently pulled him to the bed. Bill fell to the side and Tom crawled in beside him, and hugged him as he let the silence engulf them. To be quite honest, he was nervous himself.

“It’s a couple of minutes to two.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Don’t turn off your hearing aid,” Tom smiled and grabbed Bill’s cold hands. 

Bill giggled. “Don’t try and make me feel bet...” He was interrupted by the door phone, and he startled with a jerk. “Fuck, I’m gonna throw up or die, Tom.”

Tom nodded. “Yeah, it’s sad.” Surprising the hell out of Tom, Bill suddenly got up and left the bedroom. Slowly, Tom followed and stood watching Bill pressing the button by the door, letting Herr Jost into the building.

“It’s done,” Bill whispered.

“You sure about wanting this?”

Bill looked at Tom and nodded. “It used to be my life. I’m just a little... nervous. It’s ridiculous really, because I’ve been absent for a few months before. Just feels different this time.”

“Let the man in,” Tom said and smiled. Bill sighed and took a deep breath before he grabbed the lock. Twisting it, his fingers slipped and he uttered a frustrated sound.

Tom set into motion and came to stand next to Bill.

“I can’t turn it...” Bill’s fingers really trembled too much.

Tom gently did it for him and opened the door, and Bill gasped when he saw the person on the landing.

“David!” he said quietly and smiled. The man smiled back and nodded to Tom. Tom stepped back, indicating the man to come forward. However, he just grabbed Bill in a bone-crushing embrace that squeezed out all air from Bill’s lungs.

Bill flapped his arms a few times before he managed to hug back, and Tom grinned from ear to ear enjoying the sight.

“It’s been too long, Bill. You should have kept in touch.”

Bill just nodded and his eyes caught Tom’s. David’s statement wasn’t quite fair. Bill was dumped shortly after the surgery and, physically, it had been impossible for Bill to reach him. None of those factors had prompted Bill’s excitement to get in contact with the man. However, that was then. This is now. 

“Good to see you,” Bill just replied, as soon as he was released. His eyes were too bright to be naturally excited to see the guy, and Tom put an arm around his waist to let him know he was there.

David noticed right away and put a hand up to rub his neck, clearly deriving a conclusion of the nature of their acquaintance.

“David, I want you to meet Tom Trümper. My roommate and the most important person in my life,” Bill said, turned his head, and sent Tom a smile completely different and genuine than the one he’d given David. But Bill’s lips were trembling as he fought to keep the stretch of his lips in a smile.

“Relax Bill,” Tom said and kissed his cheek.

Bill laughed nervously. 

“Why don't we leave the hall and go into the living room?” Tom continued. “You drink coffee, right?” he asked, knowing this for a fact, because Bill had asked him to get Nescafe specially for the manager.

“Yeah, thanks,” David replied and shuffled after the two lanky young men. “You have some cake?” he then asked, hopefully.

Bill snorted. “Yeah, Tom baked a cake for you.”

Tom grinned. He had bought one of those quick mix packages, and the whole thing was done in barely twenty minutes. Still, it left time for Bill to hang around him nervous and handwringing. Tom had reminded him that David had asked to come and see _them_. Not the other way around. Bill nodded jerkily, but Tom could tell he hadn’t paid attention due to nerves.

“Please have a seat,” Tom offered the man. There were three cups and plates on the dining table. Strategically, Bill and Tom sat next to each other, which left the last place setting for David across from them.

“Can I smoke?” David asked. 

Tom and Bill looked at each other and nodded. Quickly, everyone was fumbling with cigarettes and lighters before all of them had lit up a stick to help with the nerves that were tangible in the space between them.

“So...” David said and grabbed for a demo he had on his person and put it on the table. Tom recognised his own handwriting right away: it was their demo.

“So...” Bill repeated and took a long graceful drag of his cigarette. Slowly, he exhaled the smoke and pursed his lips. 

“What do you think?” Tom blurted out. Bill looked away like it had nothing to do with him.

David nodded. “It’s good. It’s different but still all Bill. I want to offer myself as a producer, but it’ll have to be without Universal.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Tom murmured. 

“I don’t trust them anymore. They treated me like shit after all the money I’d made for them,” Bill said.

“I haven’t shown this to anyone. If we keep it to ourselves, we can make the most of it. What do you want, Bill?” David looked at Bill.

Slowly, Bill looked back. “I want money out of it. I want to kick the band in the nuts. I want back.”

“In the tread mill? Fame? The constant routine of recording, promoting, fan signing and so on?”

“I miss some of it. I miss performing.”

“But do you want it?” Tom asked.

Bill bit his lips. Obviously, he had been thinking about it a lot ever since the accident and certainly lately. Then he shook his head. “No,” he whispered and took another long drag of his cigarette. “I don't want it back. I just want this song.” He looked at them both one at the time. “And then we’ll see.”

“We can put the song on iTunes and take it from there. Perhaps some label will be interested in releasing hard copies for us.”

“What’s in it for you, David?” Bill asked.

“Nothing. I’m just interested in where this can take you, Bill. The band is... to put it mildly, _intolerable_ right now. I doubt they have much time left before they break up. There’s nothing to keep them grounded.”

“Okay,” Bill said, and ran the length of a finger under his eye to catch the moistness gathering there. “Fuck...”

“Is your voice strong enough to sing again?” David asked. “It’s fantastic to hear you talking again.”

“Maybe. It depends. I still have fallouts, but it’s coming back. Getting stronger.”

“It’s great. Congratulations.”

Bill looked up sharply and David looked away. “Yeah, whatever...”

“Bill...”

“Save it. It’s history. Let’s move forward.”

David nodded and Tom detected admiration in his eyes... and a good portion of relief that Bill held no grudges. At least, he wasn’t accusing David directly of any.

“The Comet awards are coming up, Bill. The band is nominated.”

_“Das Feuerhertz?”_

“Yeah. Best Video. Best single.”

“Fuck. Is the band nominated?”

“No, not for best band. But for some reason, Kasper is nominated Best Singer.”

“Wow,” Bill shook his head. That had to be a joke. Bill originally wrote and recorded the song with the band but, when it was released during Bill’s absence, Kasper was suddenly the singer on the single. Universal hadn’t wasted their time.

“And you are, too.”

“No!” Bill put his hand against his mouth in sincere surprise.

Tom snickered. “I wonder who will win that one!”

“Tom!” Bill clipped him on the head in frustration. 

“Just saying! I can’t imagine Kasper winning that one!”

“You haven’t heard him sing.”

“I have,” Tom corrected Bill. He had actually goggled Kasper and the band several times by now and he sounded... not bad - but nowhere nearly as good as Bill.

“Guys...” David smiled. “It’s cute, but stick to the topic?”

Bill folded his arms across his chest, and Tom smiled widely.

“What’s the deal here? A duo?”

“Oh!” Bill turned and looked expectantly at Tom. They hadn’t discussed anything further than just doing the song if David agreed to produce it.

Tom shrugged. “Not a duo as such, more like Bill in the front and me on the guitar somewhere behind him.”

Bill smiled and shook his head lightly. “I think a duo is fine.”

“Bill,” Tom said and touched his back. “It’ll be me in the background, supporting you.”

Bill frowned confused.

“You just want this song promoted and that’s it. You’re not interested in more, right?”

“Right.”

“Then there’s no point in bringing me into the spotlight if we take our bow and leave afterwards.”

“I get your point, Tom,” David said. “But you’re too handsome not to spot on the stage, and trust me on this. If you show yourself on stage with Bill, you’re in it right away. There is no way you’ll stay anonymous just because you want to. It’s not going to happen.”

“Handsome?” Tom asked. Of course, he knew that he wasn’t bad looking, but was David hinting at stardom here? “I don’t want that,” Tom said.

“Then you can’t be on stage at all, Tom. Because once you’re seen, you’re in the spot light,” David warned him.

“Umm...”

“He’s telling you you have boy band material. Girls will be pining for you when they see you on TV. They’ll want to know everything about you,” Bill elaborated.

“Thanks for clarifying that. No thanks, David,” Tom said.

“You won’t be on stage with me?” Bill asked softly and put the smoke down.

Tom inhaled before he answered. “You’re sending out different messages, Bill.”

“I’m not sending anything!” Bill defended himself. “I’m just saying I really want you on that stage with me.”

“Are we even going to be on a stage? We haven’t recorded the fucking song yet,” Tom said, looking pointedly at Bill.

“Oh...” Bill bit his lip and wiped at his eye again. This time, Tom thought it was an act, but a fat crystal clear tear eventually escaped Bill’s eye and rolled down his cheek. 

It tugged violently inside Tom to reach out and comfort him, but David was there and he had to take Bill’s dignity into consideration.

“Bill for fuck’s sake,” David sighed.

“I’m sorry. I’m just...” Bill shook his hands in frustration.

“Are you on something?” the man asked as if it was a normal topic to casually throw on the table. 

Tom thought it was _not_ normal and got up. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean!” 

Bill grabbed Tom’s hand and pulled him back down. “It’s okay, Tom. I kind of used to be on pills.”

Tom stared at him a few moments. “For what?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” David said in what looked like a back tracking attempt.

“Is it relevant?” Tom wanted to know.

“Not really,” David admitted.

“Then why did you have to bring it up, you dick?”

“I apologise. It was honestly a stupid remark. I’m sorry, Bill.”

“Move on, David,” Bill said through gnashing teeth.

“Right... right. So, what’s the deal with you now, Bill?” David asked.

“I’m still unsure on my legs but it gets better.”

“Can be arranged with a chair or something on stage.”

“Okay. And my voice...”

“If it breaks it breaks.” David shrugged. “So far, we’re just at the beginning and I’ll evaluate your voice after I hear you sing.”

“Man, you sure want him back, don’t you?” Tom asked, snuffing his cigarette. He poured himself some coffee and added a bit of sugar. David made himself a cup of Nescafe and nodded.

“I want Bill. He was good,” David looked at Bill, “You’re still good and you look fierce with that determined look in your eyes.”

Bill cocked his head and smiled. “Thanks.”

Tom fiddled with his pack of cigarettes and took a sip of his coffee. He felt out of his league right now. What David had said that Tom would instantly become a target for fan girls, did not sit well with him. Tom was seriously not interested in becoming anything regarding star status what so ever. However, if that was the price he had to pay for Bill to have his moment in the lime light once more, then... Tom frowned. Fuck, he was not comfortable with that, but he knew he would do it nevertheless.

“When will you evaluate him?”

“Come to the studio and we’ll have a go,” David said.

“When?” Tom asked. Bill turned his head and smiled nervously and very excitedly at him and then he stared expectantly at David, who squirmed a little under his intense gaze.

“Tomorrow?” David suggested.

“How about now?” Bill said.

“Uh... Sure!” David exclaimed, clearly not expecting that.

“Let’s go then,” Tom said. He just wanted to get it over with.

“Do we take your car, David?” Bill asked.

“If it’s okay...” David dragged out his question and looked at Tom.

Tom understood what went on in David’s head now. Shit. Tom did tell the man that he was Bill’s manager now, but thinking about how it must have sounded to him, he got an instant urge to correct any misinterpretations here. He wasn’t exactly managing anything for Bill. He didn’t control Bill. His boyfriend made his own decisions without needing Tom’s prompts unless he asked for them. Tom was only interested in what Bill wanted right now. 

“Don’t ask me. Ask Bill. This is his dream,” Tom said.

“Such a darling, huh, Dave?” Bill laughed, excitedly. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

David sat in the front seat and Bill next to him. Tom sprawled on the back seat hugging his guitar and just listened in on their conversation. He’d thought they’d have to drive back to Berlin, but to his surprise, David’s facilities were right here in Hamburg. This was where Bill’s adventure had begun seven years ago.

A silence occurred between the men in the front seats, and Tom glanced up. David was sending looks in Bill’s direction for a few moments, and Tom grinned. He was clearly building up courage to ask Bill something. He wondered how many times he’d rehearsed the question he wanted to ask in his head, before he came up with a wording that wouldn’t offend Bill. Tom even knew what the question would be.

“Can I ask what it is that you’re wearing in your ear, Bill?” David asked, finally.

 _Bingo..._ Tom folded his arms and watched the two with amusement.

“What does it look like?” Bill asked.

David cast a quick look at him. “A... a hearing aid?”

Tom smirked. Was the dude afraid that Bill would make a scene? Maybe he was used to Bill making a scene. Tom shrugged and looked out of the window. When Bill had decided to get that hearing aid, it had been a relief for the young man. He’d kept on to an undefined shame for so many years, even if he couldn’t help it being born with a hearing handicap. That he’d made it as far as he had career wise was phenomenal. He’d gotten a fucking expensive device, and he heard everything now. To Tom, it was a blessing. To Bill, it was close to the eighth wonder.

“Yeah, David. It is a hearing aid. I can hear now. I can speak now, and I fucking move now.” Only Bill’s hands hadn’t quite caught up a hundred percent. Sometimes, he deliberately wouldn't use his hands. Tom was still cool about that and recognised that from the other times when Bill was still stuck in helpless situations and couldn’t force his brain to release the impulses to allow movement. Tom wondered if Bill had suffered a tiny brain damage of some kind from the accident. Anything was possible when you couldn't really pinpoint what was wrong.

“That’s terrific,” David said, quickly leaving the touchy subject.

“Will Universal sue you if they realise you’re collaborating with another artist?” Tom asked.

“No. I have no contract that prevents me from working and producing artists not with the label. Universal chose to drop Bill. It was a written statement, so they can’t rewind and suddenly put claim to anything we make from this day forth. Should we actually make money of this, then I’m sure they’ll at least try and get a share of the pot asking to sign you up all over. Anyway, they’ll benefit from a natural interest in fans buying the band’s previous work when Bill suddenly surfaces again. Lord knows, the amount of speculations and grief the poor fans have gone through after the accident. That’ll give Universal a lot of money – and you, too, since you wrote the music, Bill. But that is up to you if you want them to take you back, Bill.”

Bill bit his lower lip, thinking. “We’ll see. I won’t exclude anything at this point.” Bill caught Tom’s eyes in the back mirror.

“You didn’t want to get back in the business, Bill,” Tom reminded him. Bill looked away. Obviously, the young star wasn’t sure if he didn’t want back in the lime light. Tom supposed it could be addictive.

“One step at the time. Then you can decide, Bill,” David said. It was clear to Tom that the man wasn’t trying to push Bill, in fact, he was more likely encouraging Bill’s very own dreams. He wanted to fulfil what Bill wanted. He’d done it before and would be capable of doing it again. All Bill had to do was say “when”.

“We’re here,” David announced, as he slowed the vehicle and turned down the road to a nice neighbourhood. At the end of the road, a fenced in building appeared and, after parking, the three men got out of the car. Tom grabbed Bill’s hand and he felt a tremor. Bill was excited but also very apprehensive. He was nervous. Squeezing Bill’s hand, Tom received a little smile.

“All right?” he asked Bill.

The singer nodded. Looking up at the house while David was busy with the key, Bill said, “I used to live here. All my vacations were spent here working with the music and the band.”

“Wow,” Tom said. That was pure dedication from a kid. Tom couldn’t imagine sacrificing all his vacations to work professionally with music, but Bill possessed a tenacity unlike most people he knew. Besides, he loved making music, so it was hardly a sacrifice.

“Did you have a room?”

“We shared a bedroom, all having their own bed. Like a boarding school,” Bill grinned.

“The four of you?”

“Yeah.”

David stepped into the hallway, and the young men followed him to the studio. 

“Are they still using the facilities?” Bill asked.

“No. Like I said, I have nothing to do with the band anymore,” David replied.

“Seems to me that you cut off at the right time,” Tom muttered.

“Why?” David asked.

“Their popularity can’t last without Bill.”

“He means you left the sinking ship in time,” Bill said.

David grinned uneasily and rubbed the back of his neck before he unlocked the door to the studio. “Well, here it is.”

Bill entered and looked around with squinted eyes. “Just like the last time.”

“Hasn’t really been that long.”

Bill nodded. “No, it hasn’t really.” 

“Bill, I’ve taken the liberty to prepare a couple of contracts... just in case. You know how it is. We need the facts signed before we can record anything. Same goes for Tom.”

“What are they about?” Tom asked.

“Who gets how much and for what. Merchandise, DVD, concerts, photo shoots, TV, interviews etc,” Bill rambled on. “Not exactly the same scales I'm used to, if any at all these days, but just in case. I’ve renewed these babies every year for as long as David and I have been working together.”

“Sure,” Tom said, looking through the copies of paper David pushed toward him. Bill came and looked at the contract, too. He pointed out a few of the nice stuff that Tom would be assured just from signing the piece of paper. David was legit. He wouldn’t bullshit either one of them. Tom sighed, knowing he probably wasn’t going make much money anyway, but if it made Bill happy... Bill signed his after reading the text like a pro.

“More percentages now?”

“We’re down to three, Bill. Not four band members and four producers splitting up the cake.”

Bill smiled triumphantly. “I love it. Even if we won’t make a cent of it.” After signing, he stuck their copies of the contract in his bag and, expecting Tom to follow, he went through the studio and opened a small door. Tom was right behind him and curiously, he followed Bill up a staircase that led to another small door. Bill entered a small loft that surprisingly had a window viewing the studio below. It was a recording booth for Bill. Bill went to a small desk and turned on the lamp. Taking off his jacket, he then took out some papers from his handbag and began to sort through them. Tom looked out of the window and found David watching them. He waved at them, and Tom waved back. 

“Are you just going to plunge right into it?” Tom asked interestedly.

“No. Why don’t you go down to David? He might want you to record the guitar right now, though.”

 _And leave you here?_ Tom thought.

Bill gave him a quick glance and, as if he knew what Tom was thinking, he said, “I’ll manage.”

Tom nodded and went down the same way he came up.

David smiled and gestured toward a sofa arrangement behind him. “Take a seat and relax with the guitar for a while. When you’re ready, we can record the song.”

“All right,” Tom said with a nod. Picking up his instrument, he sat down and sprawled comfortably over the seat. David rigged the guitar and got back in his chair. When Tom had adjusted the guitar in his hands, he began strumming for a while, before he played the song in its entirety.

“You’re good, Tom,” David said in a professional way so Tom just smiled. He’d never been one to fish for compliments anyway. Bill used up the quota for the both of them on a daily basis. The thought made Tom smile widely all of a sudden and, looking up toward the window, he found Bill looking back at him. His expression was one of complete adoration and Tom grinned happily, wriggling his lip piercing unconsciously. When his eyes fell on David’s, he blushed immediately.

“You’re in love. How sweet,” David teased.

Tom refused to go there and played it cool instead with a shrug. “I think I’m ready.”

“For love?” 

“No, man. To record the song.” Rolling his eyes, Tom pointed at the impressive mixing table.

“Right.” David got up and gave Tom a pair of headphones to put on. Then he checked with Bill. “Wanna sing along, too?”

“Yeah. Let’s try together.” Bill was bouncing on the ball of his feet, and Tom grinned at him.

“Excited much?” 

Bill waved at him and said, “Let’s go, Tom.”

David grinned. “Okay, guys. We’re recording...” Then he counted down with his fingers from three.

Tom bobbed his head and started playing. When Bill began to sing the song, Tom looked up toward the window of the recording booth to look at him and, as the song progressed; their eyes were connected the entire time.

After the initial recording, David suggested a bridge here, or a bar there. He encouraged a few interlaced haunting whispered moments like in the demo threaded into the lyrics in between the now stronger vocal parts. Tom and Bill liked everything and worked with the producer, conveying the suggestions and, eventually, they had a great song. A few of the lyrics needed a twist to accommodate the changes, but overall, Tom was amazed they’d actually managed to finish the song in a day with only a handful of recordings for the final version.

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

Bill was ecstatic on the way home. His voice had been surprisingly strong. David had even said that he couldn’t tell the difference from when Bill was actively singing in the band and to what he’d achieved vocally today. Tom wasn’t sure if that was obsequiousness or not, because honestly, he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut.

Bill sat in the passenger seat yet again and the eager discussion between himself and David was on a plane where Tom decided he had no interest. They kept brushing old days, and even Bill’s former band members popped up here and there. Skirting the subject for the umpteenth time, Tom felt that maybe Bill wasn’t entirely truthful about his wishes. Maybe he did want to go back to become a member of Munich Motel and push Kasper back to being the guitarist and not the singer. 

“Never will I be a part of the band anymore, David,” Bill suddenly said, breaking into Tom’s thoughts. Looking up, Tom caught Bill’s gaze in the back mirror. Sometimes, it was eerie how Bill seemed to think about the same things at the same time as Tom would.

“I don’t think you could, either.” David was looking at Bill. Bill looked away and banged his head against the headrest of his seat. “Universal has closed that door, and as I told you, I have nothing to do with them anymore.”

“Right. Right. Just saying how I feel.”

“You never worked out the disappointment about everything, did you?”

“I think my trashed childhood room speaks for itself,” Bill snorted almost hatefully.

Tom’s eyebrows rose. “You trashed that?”

Bill bit his lips and decidedly looked out of the window stopping his communicating with the both of them. As always, Tom knew when to shut up. How on earth could Bill trash his old room at his parents’, if he couldn’t move his body at the time? At least that’s what Tom assumed. He had a feeling that after trashing his room, that was when Bill left his family to go living by himself. 

“You trashed your room when you were fired?” David asked. At the same time, they’d reached Tom’s address, and he stopped the car in front of the building. Bill refused to answer, and Tom had stopped going there anymore when he decided that Bill was not responsible in justifying anything about his past before Tom entered his life. 

Bill began picking at threads around a small hole in his jeans clad knee. “I was dropped before that. I just never told anyone.”

David cut the engine and sat still for a while absorbing what Bill had just said.

Tom tried to comprehend this, too. Wow. What did that even mean?

“Well, don’t interrupt each other, huh?” Bill said sarcastically to them.

“Level with us. What happened, Bill? I’m sick of the gossip and secrets at Universal in the first place. The other boys make me want to throw up when I see their sickly sweet smiles answering questions about you in interviews. I've watched you all grow up and I can’t recognise them anymore. What the fuck happened? I was your manager and I was practically the last to know,” David implored Bill.

“I got a letter from Universal telling me the boys had signed a letter wanting me out. And so their prompt had been successful resolving in the label firing me. I got the letter in the morning with the usual bag of mail, signed by the executives and everything. The cause for terminating my contract was my hearing problems. Nothing about my musical skills, or what I had already achieved in spite of my handicap that previously had never been an issue. They’d suddenly come to the decision that it was uncool for lacking a better word that the lead singer was - and I quote: _Tone deaf_ \- unquote.” Bill looked hard at David before he continued, “And would I kindly refrain from mentioning the letter to the others. Heaven forbid I found out by their reaction that they stood behind the plan in the first place. Screw _my_ feelings instead. I doubt the guys knew they had succeeded, because the road accident happened that very same afternoon and I never saw the letter again. I wonder who found it and removed it.”

“Kasper?” Tom suggested, quietly.

“Probably,” Bill whispered. 

“And then you were officially fired while you were hospitalised, because your list of failures now included losing your voice, as well.”

“It was so perfect,” Bill added, “I was out. Kasper was now the frontrunner and got the prize.”

Tom picked at a nail wondering why Bill kept hiding all these frustrating hurting little details. But maybe the emotional pain was too great for Bill to release everything at once. The full picture of who he was and how he got there kept changing. Each piece to the puzzle was as important as the previous and the next, and Tom could see Bill more clearly with each time another one was fitted into the picture.

“Thanks, David,” Bill said and grabbed the manager’s hand.”

“I’ll keep in touch soon. The mix won’t take long and then we’ll discuss the release.”

“Yeah. Good night, David,” Bill said and stepped out of the car.

Tom was already there to help him if he needed a hand, but Bill handled everything by himself.

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

Once they were back in the flat, Bill went straight to bed without asking for dinner. 

Slowly, Tom went to the living room and put on some music. Opening his laptop, he sat for a while and tried to sort out his feelings thinking about anything and nothing. Occasionally, he would surf the net, or check e-mails, and generally try to understand how ruthless the music industry was. How careless the people in charge treated those who made money for them. Tom was in no doubt that under any circumstances was he going to let anybody get their greedy hands on him or Bill. No way in hell was Bill going to be someone’s moneymaker again like that. He only trusted David, because Bill seemed to do it, and in that sense – as far as Tom could estimate from their short time spent together – he did, too.

David approached Bill because they had a past and they enjoyed making music together. Clearly, there was not going to be a commercial success out of this, eventually. Bill didn’t want that. Or maybe he did. Tom clicked a few links, pondering about this. Honestly, Tom didn’t think Bill was ready for it. The lurking after shocks of his depression showed its ugly head on the way home. Bill would have to process that. More would come and Tom had no desire to watch Bill being hit in the head occasionally like that. But if Bill did want this, Tom would support him and protect him from what Bill couldn’t handle rationally.

Man, Tom was developing a headache now. Maybe Tom was the one who didn’t know what he wanted? He closed the lid to the laptop, got up, and went to bed.

As he lay in bed, his mind kept pondering. The millions of thoughts, possibilities, problems, risks... Everything had pros and cons, and Tom cast a glance at Bill. The brunet was lying on his back with his head turned slightly toward Tom.

“Are you sleeping?” Tom asked quietly. Then he looked at Bill’s night table. His hearing aid was put there. Bill wasn’t responding.

Sighing, Tom crept closer and carefully wrapped himself around Bill as much as he could in Bill’s position. Bill immediately turned and wrapped around Tom, too.

“I’m worried about you,” Tom whispered.

“Don’t be,” Bill murmured.

“I am.”

“Okay.”

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

Knees bouncing violently as he sat waiting. Tom looked around and sucked in his lips with nerves before he released the worried flesh. Bill sat next to him. His hair was teased so gorgeously, the make up nothing Tom had ever seen before. When the singer turned and looked at Tom, he thought he was checking out an Egyptian prince for sure. There was no way Bill could be from this world. 

“Is it like this every time?” he asked and Bill just smiled. The snake in his turban moved slightly and its eyes gleamed like emeralds, matching Bill’s golden brown ones.

“Is it like this every time?” Tom asked again. Bill pursed his lips and lifted a questing eyebrow. The snaked nodded, its split little tongue struck out, and Tom parted his lips letting it in. An incredibly firm, silky tongue filled his mouth and a hungry groan escaped Tom as he latched on to the snake. Somewhere in the distance, their names were called. They had won an award but not for their own song. Tom didn’t catch what song it was. He grabbed Bill’s fingers tightly and sucked desperately on the snake’s tongue that seemed to leak. 

“Tom!” a pretty croaked voice gasped.

“Yeees,” Tom responded pleasure drunk, as he sucked on the massive tongue.

“Gods, Tom,” Bill moaned louder, hoarser, and very sexy.

Fingers pulled frantically on his hair, confusing Tom who already thought he was holding Bill’s hands. Keeping up sucking the snake, he elicited throatier almost pained moans from Bill. Opening his eyes, Tom had Bill’s groin right in front of him. His cock still releasing semen. Pushing Bill away, Tom had to orientate himself what was happening.

“Tom?” Bill shrieked surprised as he fell backwards on the bed causing a minor disruption of the waves. Tom’s mouth was open in confusion and quickly, he crawled forward.

“I was a sleep! What happened?” Tom asked, swallowing remains of cum in his mouth.

Bill just looked at him before he slowly asked in an incredulous tone, “You were _asleep?”_

“Yes. Are you all right?”

“Am I all right? You were in the middle of giving me a blow job, Tom!” Bill exclaimed.

“What!”

“And you were sleeping?” Bill punctuated, putting his hands against his cheeks.

“Wow...”

“Wow...” Bill repeated. “I woke up and your hands were all over me, Tom. Then you began to suck me off, and we ended up with you sitting up and me...”

“In my sleep?” Tom asked in disbelief.

Bill nodded slowly. “I had no idea! Well, you didn’t say much now I come to think about it. But I wasn’t thinking about it to be honest, because you were quite persistent, and I just came, so...”

“Gees... I had the weirdest dream. You were an Egyptian prince at the Comet awards and there was a snake in your hair... and the snake...”

“Was not a snake. It was my dick...” Bill giggled softly. “I was dreaming really nicely, too. I woke up to your eager lovemaking, though.”

Tom smiled. Then he chuckled and they laughed. “Wonder what caused the sex to mingle with the awards.” Then he gestured toward Bill’s crotch. 

Bill nodded and asked, “Want me to return that?”

Tom knew he had a hard on, but he wasn’t eager for that now. The thoughts of the Comet had already returned being the cause why he had been dreaming of the awards. The sex was apparently just a sidestep from his focus. David wanted to release their song “Im Rückblick” (In Retrospect) as soon as possible, which would be within a few days. Bill already had a nomination as 'Best Singer' with his old band, so he would be expected to appear at the awards. Once VIVA got the news that he was able to sing again, it would be possible that Bill would be asked to sing. And that song could be theirs, because Bill wouldn’t touch anything related to Munich Motel. Tom would join him on stage and then...

“Ah... no. I think I’ll skip,” Tom declined. There were too many thoughts in his head to keep an erection going long enough for a blow job. He kissed Bill longingly, though. 

“Then by all means,” Bill responded with a huge smirk on his face. Lifting his arms above his head, he writhed his body into a very sexy posture.

Tom kissed his lips again firmer. “If I wake you up again with the intent on molesting you, in _my_ sleep, wake me up so I can enjoy it consciously.”

Bill grinned and kissed him back. “Will do.”

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

David sent them an e-mail the next day. The two young men were busy going over the CD they had gotten from the producer the previous day. He’d remixed the song to its best capacity and asked them to listen to it, and suggest last minute changes.

Eagerly, Tom and Bill immediately listened to the three attached MP3 files. The results were even better than those they’d recorded the day before. Obviously, David had been busy hours after he’d dropped them off adding subtle instruments. He’d even added violins to one of the tracks. Tom liked that a lot, but commercially, one of the other tracks sounded better. Bill agreed with him even if he also personally liked the version with the violins. 

Tom had talked to Bill about his worries last night.

“You worry too much. I might be fragile at some points, but this is what I’m good at, Tom, and I _am_ good at it. This is my job and I can handle it.”

“I understand, but I’m just worried sick. I think about it constantly.” Bill just smiled at him. Sure, Tom could tell that Bill found this was too cute, but he couldn’t help it. He’d seen Bill at his worst and he feared this would trigger a bad experience.

“I appreciate this, but I’m going to be okay. I accepted the invitation to show up for the awards, didn’t I?” 

“By e-mail, yes.”

“I got it via my universal related e-mail,” Bill said.

The door rang and Tom went to answer. Turned out it was David. 

“Hey guys!” David said, as he entered the door. Bill came out and stood in the hallway, too.

“I have a phone for you, Bill. Business line, so don’t use it for private calls. I’m paying the taxes for it.”

“I’m touched,” Bill said sarcastically, but grinned immediately after checking out the facilities right away. “What about Tom?”

David frowned. “Would you need one, Tom?” he asked.

“Was this mentioned in the contract?” Tom asked.

Bill nodded. “Yeah. Want one?”

“Nah. I’ll let you know if I need it.”

“So which mix did you prefer?” David asked them.

“The second,” they both said, and David smiled.

“I did, too.”

“Release that one. We’re okay with that version,” Bill said on Tom’s behalf. Then Bill looked tentatively at David.

“What is it?” the manager asked.

“I got an invitation to attend the Comet awards show,” Bill mentioned to David.

“I see. Nominated _and_ invited. Will you attend?”

Bill looked at the phone in his hand and smiled. “There is that small possibility that I might win that award, even if I’ve been away from the band. I’m sure there’ll be a few who voted for me and one shouldn’t snub those voting for you.”

Tom smiled crossing his arms amusedly. “How does this work? Do you call the channel or...?”

“Are you crazy? Giving them this number? It’d be chiming forever.” Bill shook his head vigorously. “David can call them.”

Bill smiled at the manager and the man nodded. “I’ll do that. I’ll extent the invitation to include Tom, too.”

“Why?” Tom asked, immediately feeling uncomfortable.

“Bill Kaulitz is entitled to bring a... a date,” David coughed. 

“What Bill Kaulitz is entitled to is bringing his _business partner_ ,” Bill said and slapped David’s arm.

“Right.” David grinned. “I’ll tell them exactly that.”

“I don’t necessarily want everybody to know we’re fucking, David,” Bill added in a biting voice Tom couldn’t decipher, but David picked it up immediately. Tom sucked on his lip piercing and looked away. They sure had a lot of years behind them working together. However, if Bill showed up with Tom on his side at the awards – which in itself sounded surreal in Tom’s world – it probably wouldn’t take many guesses for the experts to figure out the professional connection between them. Their personal relationship was another thing.

Bill smiled and hugged Tom. “I can’t wait, Tom. I’m really thrilled already.”

Tom just nodded. He still wasn’t sure what Bill really wanted right now or if his boyfriend even knew. One part of him still wanted to stay at home with his feet on the couch and have his neck nuzzled all day, and the other had never let go of the rock star life, recording records, the endless roads to travel while touring. The screaming fans and concerts.

After David left, Bill had this dreamy quality to his beautiful eyes the rest of the day. Hyped up, he was watching the future and, to Bill, it sure looked alluring. Around eight, Tom suggested Bill took a long bath to relax. His muscles were all tense and, in spite of his happiness, he was becoming nervous and apprehensive with doubt. Two weeks from now, and they would show themselves at the awards. Tom knew that Bill put more into the chances of winning than he let them on. He wanted to win that award. If he still had a chance to come back that would be it. David would release their single already tomorrow. There was no point in postponing and, marketing wise, he had his methods to squeeze in ads in no time.

While Bill was soaking in the tub humming softly, the phone rang. Tom looked up and realised it was his. 

“Yeah?”

“Is this Tom Trümper?”

“Yeah. Who is this?” Tom asked, apprehensively.

“This is Collien Fernandes from VIVA. I have some...”

“Where did you get this number?” Tom interrupted her right away.

“You’re listed. We received a call that Bill Kaulitz lists you as his guest for the awards, so we thought it would be cool to get your musical history?”

 _FUCK!_ Tom hadn’t anticipated this. He didn’t know this Collien person, and really felt like telling her to keep her nose out of his life- But this is what they warned him about and that Tom hadn’t understood was real. Now he had his first taste of how fast one could end up on the net tabloids, or even TV before they’d even released their music. Should he say he was a nobody when Bill was everything? Would the little guy out there care? Everybody began somewhere before they made it big. 

Tom decided to bluff. “Is this an interview?” he asked, bluntly.

“Uhhhh...” Miss Collien Fernandes hesitated. Clearly, that question came as a surprise. “I guess not... No. It’s not. It’s just some background routine, you know.”

“No, I don’t know. But if you must label me, I’m an unrecorded guitarist.”

“Why are you Bill Kaulitz’ guest?”

“We’re business partners,” Tom responded with a smirk.

“In what way?”

“I deliver the background music.”

“So how is Bill doing these days?”

“Wow, my fifteen minutes of fame died very sudden. Thanks for the needlework, Miss Fernandes.” Tom hung up on her.

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

“There it is, Tom,” Bill said breathlessly. He was checking out iTunes every five minutes this afternoon, and finally, the single was available. VIVA was running ads for “Im Rückblick”, albeit with old clips of Bill, but that was fine. Earlier that morning, a photographer had paid them a visit and set up a photo shoot in Tom’s sunny living room. Bill had been dressed and made up to kill, and Tom had worn a shirt matching the colours of Bill’s and the least baggy jeans he owned. Bill had approved with a deep cherry flavoured kiss. A flash drive had been left with copies of the pictures, and Tom had played around with a homepage he’d set up for them the day before.

“What does she mean by ‘unskilled guitarist?” Bill had asked the first time Collien, the brunette VIVA VJ, had mentioned Tom in a news flash to follow the surprising new single so close to the Comets. Even though there was no video to promote the song, the interest of Bill’s return to the pop scene was extremely overwhelming. David was bombarded with attention, and requests for interviews were building up frighteningly fast. Tom was still a little shell-shocked by all the interest. There was no way he could have prepared himself for this kind of exposure.

“She called me, remember, however I said ‘unrecorded guitarist’,” Tom reminded him. Bill chuckled a little every time that Tom told him about the phone call he received two nights earlier.

“Unskilled, my arse,” Bill muttered. “She’s just miffed you wouldn’t give her the juicy gossip she was digging for and degraded you.” Creative speculations regarding Bill’s come back had been analysed eagerly in a special program by ‘experts’ in a panel, comparing airy speculations whether Bill or Munich Motel stood a better chance at winning. There had been no comments from Bill or Tom as well as the band. Tom snickered. The band was probably in shock over the news that Bill was returning to the music industry. It was fun though to watch old clips with his boyfriend on the screen, while having him in his arms on the couch at the same time. 

Later that evening, the photos that were taken were already released on their home page, giving people a face to go with Tom’s name. Digging up their little collaboration had been a piece of cake for the fans and the visitor numbers kept increasing. Tom took funny snapshots with his phone of Bill and recorded small video messages that he kept putting on during the evening, until Bill told him he’d had enough for the day. The comments from the fans were hilarious, very enthusiastic, and very emotional at times. Before they went to bed, word had spread so fast that they’d built a fan base for their little homepage of more than 5,000 members... and Collien had mentioned it on VIVA.

No matter how much they disliked the VJ, she did do them a favour with the free publicity. 

The next few days, Tom continued to feed the hungry fans footage and fun snap shots. Bill took some of Tom, too. At first, Tom didn’t mind, but the interest in whom he was and what he was like resolved in blunter questions on their blog and Tom didn’t want all of that out there. 

“Will you perform at the Comet awards?” was the most asked question, and Bill was truly happy that people still wanted him to perform, but VIVA hadn’t approached David yet, so Bill had no idea. They stayed clear of every Munich Motel related questions because it was nobody’s business. There wasn’t exactly a war between them and the band, because they had no communication at all.

David called them to say he liked the idea with the little video incidents and funny pictures, but reminded them not to show too much of their home. It could invite the wrong people.

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

The weeks went by really fast. The single sold well on iTunes and the duo stayed in door to let everything sink in while they tried to digest the overnight feverish fame.

By now, they didn’t watch TV so much. They weren’t just mentioned on VIVA, it had escalated to every kind of TV news in Germany and also a few international channels. Bill had allowed RTL and BRAVO small exclusive interviews providing Munich Motel was not mentioned.

Tom had watched from a far. Bill’s voice had been strong and determined when he answered. And such a pro. Bill definitely took Tom by surprise by how smooth he handled the interviewers. Of course, he was asked about Munich Motel. BRAVO hadn’t been able to control themselves, but Bill just said ‘no comment’ so charmingly it almost made Tom laugh, and that was to it.

With only a few days left, Bill was getting increasingly nervous, and his need for Tom to help him escalated, too. 

“Are you nervous about confronting the band?” Tom asked him the night before. Bill lay in his arms, hot and flushed after a sweaty bout of lovemaking. Tom kissed his long neck, and waited patiently for Bill to think about his answer.

“Yes,” Bill finally said on top of Tom’s body, smothering him tighter.

“Why?” Tom wanted to know and kissed the crown of Bill’s head.

“I don’t what to talk to them and I don’t want them to come and talk to me, either.”

“I’ll sit next to you and protect you,” Tom said.

Bill laughed. “Have you even told Georg and your friends about all of this?”

Tom thought about it. He hadn’t really talked to his friends for a while. Not since the party. He did wonder why Georg was so nice and kept away. Was it because he gave Tom space to build up his relationship with Bill? Tom snorted. 

“Would you kindly not snot on me?” Bill growled.

“Sorry,” Tom apologised. “No, I haven’t been in touch with them.”

“I haven’t been in touch with people or family, either.”

“We’ve been isolating us.”

“This is big.”

“It is.”

“Do you like all this, Tom?” Bill asked.

“Some of it is fun, but TV and all that fan stuff is something I have to get used to.” Tom rolled his eyes even if Bill couldn’t see him. “The fan stuff is fun. They’re very grateful for what we do for them.”

“We’ll keep doing it, yeah?”

“Sure,” Tom agreed. “I should have taken a photo of your orgasm face just now.”

Now it was Bill’s turn to snort at Tom. Cackling with delight, he lifted his chin and kissed Tom’s mouth. “That’s really going to secure me an award.”

“Wanna clean up before we sleep?” Tom asked him when the kiss was finished properly.

“No,” Bill murmured, already settling in Tom’s arms, then Tom wouldn't bother, either.

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Even though the single had caught a lot of attention, it hadn’t been enough for VIVA to want Bill to perform the new song. Still, the questions that Bill and Tom were asked as they worked their way up the red carpet were mostly pointed in that direction. It was more interesting than the fact that Munich Motel had appeared barely fifteen minutes earlier.

Dressed in an incredible outfit of silver sequined high heeled boots, sinfully tight white jeans, and a sheer white organza shirt with glitter threads, Bill answered happily all the questions he was asked. Tom assisted with a comment here and there when needed, but as usual, Bill managed this task fluently. When they finally entered the theatre where the show was broadcasted from, they were met by Collien and a microphone up their faces right away. Tom rolled his eyes slightly. The VJ wore the sluttiest dress he’d even seen. She ignored Tom completely, and Tom couldn’t help smirking.

“Bill! Hi! It’s been a while! Are you excited about the nomination?”

Grabbing Tom’s arm, Bill nodded with a mega watt smile. “Yes. It’s nice to be here.”

Tom felt the trembles and let Bill grab as hard as he needed to stay on his feet.

“You were hospitalised for a while. It must be exciting to be well again?” Collien blabbered on.

“It’s great to be here,” Bill repeated and his smile became more strained.

“I think it’s _exciting_ to be here, too, Collien,” Tom added and licked his lip piercing wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. “And I think you outdid you wardrobe tonight. I can almost see the dress.” 

Bill’s mouth hung open as he stared at Tom, utterly speechless. Then he closed his eyes a few seconds to control his amusement, before he discreetly pushed at Tom to start move toward the lounge arrangement reserved for them along with David who was already seated. Their spot was suspiciously close to Munich Motel, but they supposed that VIVA hoped for a bit of drama during the evening. Bill sat with his back to his former band mates and Tom positioned himself right next to them. David was already there waiting for them and they greeted one another whole-heartedly. The sight of Kasper though, hadn’t had the effect on Tom that he thought it would. 

“What did you tell her, Tom?” David asked. “She looked like she got a bucket of water all over her.”

“She tried to make me spill the guts in the 10.5 seconds she had to her disposal,” Bill explained and nonchalantly reached for the drink David had ordered for them in advance as soon as he sat down. Tom noticed how his hand shook and, wordlessly, he took the glass and gave it to Bill. Bill smiled at him and Tom wished he could kiss him.

Chuckling quietly, David clucked his tongue. “You might not be saying it, Tom, but you sure are showing it.”

Tom ripped his eyes off Bill and focused on the manager. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, Tom,” David said. “Your love for each other shows in your eyes. There is no way that nobody is not going to make assumptions about you two.”

“Let them. We don’t give a fuck,” Bill mumbled, who loved Tom’s adoration.

The evening moved along and another of the moderators came to their table to pass a few words. This time it was Jan Köppen, and he was much more sympathetic than Collien. 

“So what’s up with that kick arse new single? It’s some of the best I’ve personally heard from you, Bill.”

“It was very spontaneously written and my... friend Tom was a darling and did the music for it. It’s good. I’m proud of it.”

“Tom...” the guy squatted next to Tom. “Nobody knows anything about you. You’re like an unwritten sheet of the next era of Bill Kaulitz’...”

“He’s the first page of his own story, not a footnote in mine,” Bill interrupted Jan.

Tom smirked and smiled bashfully. He had no idea what to say when people weaved pretty analyses about his influence on Bill’s career. “Yeah. That’s basically it,” he just added.

“Well that’s cool. Can’t wait to hear what you guys come up with after ‘I’m Rückblick’.”

“Me neither,” Tom grinned and then felt Bill poking him in the ribs. “Ups. Just ask Bill, would you?” he joked. But the moment didn’t come because Bill’s nomination was on and shortly after the names for ‘Best Singer’ rolled on the giant TV screen on stage.

“Kasper Lieberkind, ‘Munich Motel’, and a short montage accompanied the singer’s name. ‘Bill Kaulitz, Munich Motel’. Tom turned halfway to check out the screen. Bill was hot up there, and he couldn’t help licking his lip ring as Bill’s fingers nervously found his in the cover of their jackets. Tom saw Bill’s face replace the footage on the screen and, quickly, he looked toward the camera guy capturing their reactions. Soon all the names had been announced and Bill sat with a stiff smile on his face, waiting for the winner to be announced. Tom just worried his lips and looked at Munich Motel playing it cool a few meters away. He wished so much for the name to be Bill’s so, when it actually was Bill’s name that the presenters on stage called out, he didn’t catch it. Bill’s hand left his to cover his astonished face. Then he looked slightly panicked at David before he tried to get up. Tom pushed to stand up and pulled Bill along in a fluent motion. 

“Can you walk?” he asked quickly.

“No...” Bill almost cried in his ear. “I won!” Tom grinned as Bill’s face turned ecstatic and happy.

“I can’t believe it!” Then Bill turned toward Munich Motel, and Tom darted a look at Kasper Lieberkind. The guy shrugged at him. Did he even care? The other two didn’t hide their disappointment and fair enough. They hadn’t won a single award that evening, but their former ‘tone deaf’ front man had won an award. Kasper got up and went to stand close to Bill to have a word. 

“Wait in line, Lieberkind,” Tom said to him as he stepped between him and Bill. Then he pulled his boyfriend along as he threw a few words in Kasper’s direction, “Excuse us. Bill has a victory speech to perform.” 

Bill giggled and flutter clapped as Tom hooked their elbows and, together, they went to receive Bill’s award for ‘Best Singer’.

“Sorry about dragging Tom up here, but I’m not entirely steady on my legs yet,” Bill said and smiled. His eyes were treacherously moist and threatened to drag smoky make up lines down his temples from tears of happiness. “Thanks to you guys, the fans, for voting and believing in me. I’m so touched and grateful. Thanks to David, my manager, and to Tom for...” Bill looked at Tom with sparkling brown eyes, and Tom looked back with a small smile playing on his lips. “...for everything. I owe you everything.” Tom nodded and accepted Bill’s hug.

“This is a big day for me, and I will bring home my Comet and be reminded of this night for a very long time. Thank you.”

“Not sharing with the group?” Tom teased Bill as they stepped down again. Bill stuck out his tongue.

“There is probably not much left of the band after tonight. I sense a split in a few days, what do you say?” Bill said turning seriously. On their way to their seats, Collien tried to get another word. Bill took pity on her, and stopped.

“So you won ‘Best Singer’, Bill. That must be exciting?”

Tom giggled. Didn’t the girl have a bigger vocabulary? “It’s _very_ exciting,” he responded for Bill.

She looked at him a fraction of a second before her gaze returned to Bill who stood with his Comet like a baby in his arms and just smiled with a dreamy expression in his eyes. Then Bill leaned forward and kissed her cheek, where after he pulled at Tom’s arm and went for the VIP lounge. 

For the rest of the show, Tom and Bill just watched as the winners came and went. Eventually, Tom got bored and had maybe a glass of champagne too many. He looked forward to the after party Bill had promised he was able to attend if Tom wanted to. Tom wasn’t sure if he want to rub shoulders with more celebrities, but it was too intriguing not to try at least this once.

Finally, the evening was over, and Tom, Bill, and David collected their stuff to find the after party. On their way from one room to the next, Tom noticed Kasper. He and Bill had thought the band had left the building when their seats some time during the evening had been vacant, but it would seem Kasper wasn’t quite done and had lingered.

“Hey, Bill,” he greeted Bill, who immediately crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. As he cocked his hip, Kasper’s eyes briefly strayed down to take in the sight before he fixed them on Bill’s face.

“What?” Bill asked sharply. Tom leaned against the wall and darted looks to people passing by. None of them paid them much attention yet, which Tom found interesting. Within the business, nobody seriously gave a fuck about each other. It was one big competition and, all of a sudden, he didn't want to ask Bill to hang around the after party just for Tom’s sake. He’d take Bill home as soon as this little diva battle had ceased.

“You know. We’ve forgiven you,” Kasper said and nodded as if he had presented Bill with a chance. With a gift beyond what Bill could ever have dreamed for.

One of VIVA’s camera crews had snuck up on them and stood filming the entire incident. Tom kept his mouth shut. He had to remember that Bill was able to handle himself in this environment. He looked at David who looked nervous by now, but he also stood quietly watching, letting Bill handle this.

Bill shook his head incredulously. “You forgive me?”

“Yeah,” Kasper shrugged and shot the camera a look. He looked uneasy now. He obviously hadn’t planned for this to be on the record. “You can be the front singer again. Now that you can sing...”

Bill’s eyebrows shut up so fast his forehead folded in lines of wrinkles. “You’re offering me my old job back because _now_ I can sing?”

“Bill...” Kasper rolled his eyes. “Can we go some place else?”

“No. Say what the fuck is on your mind or piss off.”

Kasper stepped closer, but Tom stepped away from the wall to near Bill if it was necessary, as did David. “Back off, Lieberkind,” Tom said lowly.

“Mind your own business, Trümper,” Kasper hissed. Tom just snorted and decided to give a fuck about the camera. He went to stand next to Bill and put an arm around his waist. Bill relaxed and his tense shoulders slumped slightly. This was draining his strength.

“I see. So it’s over?” Kasper asked.

“Yeah, I’m not returning to the band,” Bill said sucking in his lips.

“I meant between us?”

Bill laughed, “Isn’t it obvious?” Those standing around them who had stopped to eavesdrop openly gasped with excitement at the drama going on before them.

“And what about the texts you sent all week? The phone sex we had?” Kasper suddenly said slyly, immediately looking at Tom to see his reaction. Tom was not prepared for dirty tricks like that and he became rigid on top of dropping his jaw.

Bill looked like he was close to fainting, but then Tom noticed the smirk in Kasper’s eyes. The attention whore was faking this just to create a reaction. 

… that’s when Tom punched him in the teeth. 

The cameras were still rolling but nobody reacted or came to Kasper’s rescue. Even the stupid little fuck’s own bodyguards didn’t intervene. It was as if they already knew their days of employment with the band would end very soon. And picking up Lieberkind after what he’d just said was beneath their dignity.

So, Kasper Lieberkind got on his feet by himself and, with a bloodied lip, he got out of Tom’s way as fast as he could, bodyguards shuffling after him.

David rubbed his hair nervously, and looked worriedly at Tom who held Bill once more. “Let’s get out of here,” he just said. What he had on his mind, he kept back until they were out of the camera’s range.

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

“I’m so sorry, Bill. And David...” Tom said when they sat in the car on their way back to Hamburg.

“I know,” David said. “At this point I have no idea if Kasper will sue you, Tom.”

“At least they didn’t broadcast it,” Bill added quietly.

“We’re fucking lucky,” David said. The whole fight had been recorded by the camera, but it hadn’t been broadcasted simultaneously. It would be archived as possible footage for a later ‘behind the scene’ episodes from the awards. However, David had mediated right away, claimed that if Lieberkind was going to press charges against Tom, VIVA could not broadcast the fight beforehand and interfere with justice. They’d have to freeze the footage for now. He could only hope nobody in the crowd had pulled out their phones to capture the clash to put on the net as soon as possible.

Bill snuggled close to Tom who was far away in his thoughts. Only when they were home, did Tom snap out of his tense speculations when David’s phone rang loudly in the quiet car. Bill stirred with a jerk and sat with tired blinking eyes listening in on the conversation David had. Not much was revealed as David mostly said yes and no during the entire conversation.

“Hold on a sec,” David suddenly said and turned in his seat to address the young men in the back. “Did Kasper insult you in your own home?” he asked.

Bill’s eyes became round and he nodded slowly. “He tried to... _attack_ me shortly after I moved in with Tom.”

“What happened?” David asked urgently.

“He barged into my home claiming to be Bill’s guest and then he attacked Bill in his room,” Tom said, following Bill’s choice of words. “But I threw him out before it got out of hand more than it already was. At that point, I had never seen him before in my life.”

“Okay. Terrific.” David recapped that information to the person on the other end of the line, where after he hung up. David turned again and a warm smile crossed his features. “Well, congratulations Tom. There won’t be any charges.”

“No?” Tom asked in a shrill voice.

“No. An executive from Universal came by VIVA immediately to view the footage. Kasper was ‘interrogated’ thoroughly why he said those things to Bill on the tape, and he admitted he’d been after Bill during their time with the band as well as after Bill was ditched. He’s officially out of the band, and as such, the band will be dissolved shortly.”

Bill sniffed. “Fucker… Destroying me and my band like that.”

“I’m sorry, Bill,” David sympathised.

“Whatever,” Bill whispered, “I want home now.”

“Sure. I’ll see you guys.”

“Thanks, David. I’ll be in touch soon,” Bill said.

“Night, David,” Tom said as he helped Bill out of the car.

“Night, Tom.”

°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°¨¨°º¤º°

Back inside their home, Bill was embraced warmly by Tom and they stood for a while, just hugging and connecting.

“I’m so sorry I dragged you through this, Tom,” Bill said, regretfully.

“Don’t be. The prep weeks were fun even if the award show wasn’t. That I do not regret. We can keep it at this level if you want.”

“Really?” Bill murmured against Tom’s neck.

“Really. The fans are sweet. It’s the business who consists of a bunch of arseholes.”

Bill giggled tiredly. “Yeah. It certain does. Be prepared to face yourself on the headlines tomorrow, though.”

Tom grinned embarrassed. “Uprising unknown guitarist kicks star on his way down?” he suggested.

“Something like that,” Bill agreed.

“Sounds great.”

“We need to get a bit of that footage to put on our blog, Tom!” Bill said and laughed. “In the _back mirror_ , I loved how macho you were with Kasper!”

“Ha-ha. You loved the pun on the title there.”

“I love _you_ , Tom,” Bill charmed.

“Sweet,” Tom replied and kissed him. “I’m still living off your money, you know.”

“That’s just until the single really begins to sell, then you’ll be richer than me.”

Tom snorted. Right. He still didn’t know how much money Bill had, and he was never going to ask him. As long as the bills were paid, he was a happy camper.

“Maybe I should look for a job, Bill?” he suggested.

“Pssht,” Bill said with a flick of his wrist. “You’re a rock star now. I doubt you’ll be taken seriously if you tried to apply for a real job.”

Tom pouted mockingly. “What a tragic future that lays ahead of me.”

“We’ll be all right, Tom.”

Tom pulled him closer. “Off course. I have you. And we should totally resurrect Munich Motel.”

“I always hated that name,” Bill admitted.

“What about Tokio Hotel then?”

Bill withdrew a few fractions and looked at Tom admiringly. “What a brilliant idea. See, that’s why I let you cook for me, Tom!”

Tom frowned in amusement. "It was a joke, Bill, but I'm sure the fans will enjoy the sarcasm.”

Bill just kissed him, and somehow that settled everything.

 

Das Ende

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


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